boyfulani'z mass-scan

on such a day, i’d ovulate!

it’s a beautiful life~30 seconds to mars

hmmm, with such declarations, i deserve a permanent editorial position at some Nairobian newspaper you and i know, but then, i only own a measly free blog- where i try make it juicy for y’all ama?
iko ivi yaani, today is sato and everything is dancing to the tune of a shattered-day(or shat-a-day with shat being the past participle of shit hehe).
well, i am not feeling so well but my mojo is so beyond its normal.
i want out!
out of this shell of being tired of being sick and tired!
For this reason and others, i’d so like to attribute to some feministic attribute, i visit the campus clinic. en route there, i realise that it’s my first time since 06! is that a Glory to God i hear?
my file was/is still there and i couldn’t help but shudder at the thought that they have my records. it’s not that i have a criminal or questionable past, but i dread leaving trails!
soon, i was ushered into the ‘Doc room’ where a label above the door read ‘Consultation.’
i knock once and a glum voice tells me to come in.
i find him putting down a ‘Rich Boy Poor Dad’ book as he reaches for his glasses which are resting on the desk. i wonder why he needs them – to see properly? or to look ‘Doctorly’? after all, he could read the fine print of the novel and am way bigger…
“do you have headaches…so i can prescribe an injection?” he enquires
uhm, yes, but not severe, in fact they have stopped…i said quickly as the thought of needles pricking my behind sends a ‘false healing’ through my head.
he asks a string of other questions as my eyes wander around his small lonely office with little intimation of life – never mind i had come here to have my life improved…could i survive working here?well, maybe am just too claustrophobic…
later on, after the usual dose of drugs that has been prescribed year in and out – even if its HIV thats eating at your marrow – i drag my not-so-feeling well body to the lib.
my mood was mellow-coddly (as val could say) everything is in purple, pink and a lovely orange 🙂 and whereas i dissassociate my absolute manhood from manipulation of the faintest trace of oestrogen in me…i think if i were a chick, on such a day,like this, with such a vision – i’d ovulate!
***
dropping my student ID at the periods…uhm, periodical section, i chuckle.
there is a quizical look on the librarian’s face but i move on to peruse the day’s papers and am going through the magazine section when i bump into Adam magazine.
how to groom yourself, blah blah and similar pictures fill the pages that i think it has an appalling gayish feel to it!
it’s so ironical to think Oh-younger Parlour (wo)manning such a mag while he so furiously writes a ‘man talk’ column!
the metrosexual man, hmmm..they call him (the man, not Pala Oyunga)
what’s up with them and make up? a man using lip balm? what the hell is fair and handsome?
what happened to the traditional man we knew before? the one that is perfectly embodied by dad?
with a natural scent, a little vaseline if any, to shake off traces of ‘mpararo?…after taking a bath on yet another scentless soap- jamaa…name them?
rough yet smooth, raw yet ripe, tough yet soft, that be me!
with a little he-motion here and there, am ready yo go…or don’t they say that its soft deep inside?
but to be swallowed by this wave of seemingly wimpy creatures(no pun, but quite intended!) :i refuse!
the kind that take ages to prepare themselves (in the bathroom- what with all make up?) kila weekendie, they are at salons, queing with ‘other’ womenfolk for a re-touch, pedicure, manicure…
honestly, i’d feel quite uncomfy spending a night with such (you know those arrangements, dont misquote)….remember Terence Howard in ‘white chicks’?
manze, you may wake up upate umembamba ule jamaa mbaya uuuuuuuuii…(after getting derailed by your dreams and some sweet musk from your bedmate.
disaster!