Friday, September 15, 2017

GOLDEN ANKARA D'ELEGANCE

Whoop whoop whoop !Happy Friday gorgeous people.Good morning from Uasin Gishu County.It's a beautiful morning over here, partly because for the first time in a very long time God's morning star is out honeycomb-yellow and shining like it's existence depends on it, and partly because it's Friday.What a day to be alive! Y'all know what's up.The weekend is here baby!
How is your week so far?Mine is super duper awesome as per usual.
Now if this fabric doesn't look familiar to you then you definitely missed out on THIS post that I did a while back on how it plays out with orange and gold.Be sure to check it out.
Nevertheless, this is my last gold themed post in this series.I got this fabric on a work trip to Dar Es Salaam, pat of which I documented HERE, and the best part yet is that it cost me slightly more than half of what it would cost in Kenya.Quite a steal, huh?
So I then had a tailor sew it into a maxi halter neck dress with a knee high slit on the left side of the front part.He artistically added an elastic band on the neck making it very malleable just in case you're pulling your 'big hair don't care' look.I have shared his contacts and the other outfit details below.







These amazing shots were taken by the very talented NAOMI SAMANTHA with Make up by Ma' Chichi gracing my face with her magic.
Finally beautiful people, I am curious about which of the four looks makes your favorite.I will share mine on my Instagram page, which if you haven't followed, please do so and I'll follow right back.
Till next time, have yourselves a lovely weekend and see you in the next post!

Outfit deets
Dress: Tailored 0713393824
Shoes: Here
Jewellery: A stall at Zion Mall Eldoret(can't recall the name)

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Thursday, September 7, 2017

BLACK AND GOLD OUTFIT

There are days when you just want to be xxxxxxxxtra. Those days are very rare for me but this look's got me like...(Insert fifty emojis with pink cheeks)


Anyways, here's the third way to style those gold pumps, while staying bad and boujee. I bet we're all in agreement that black is a wardrobe staple that we can't live without.

I decided to work with some gold accents and my favorite favorite are the embellishments on the shoulder part of the top.Awesome decorative detail.



Photography : Naomi Samantha 
MUA: Make up by Ma'chichi

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Friday, September 1, 2017

WHITE BODYCON DRESS : HELLO SEPTEMBER!

 Sometimes I wonder why gold did not make it to the list of neutrals.It has never been my favorite color but it's slowly winning me over.
Hello September!, we are only four months away from Christmas.Well, three months and twenty four days away sounds better.
August has been a long month.The days just never seemed to move but well, were here. It's the first day of September and it is a beautiful day.Do I need to spell it out? I guess not.
Onto more golden things, how do love this ensemble?White, hot pink and gold.Lots of gold.The story of this head gear is the story of a thousand Tanzanian girls,it's the story of a thousand voices and it's the story of change, that of a new story.If you have been following my blog, then you already know about the fascinating facts I shared about Dar es Salaam in this post.If not, please run there and borrow some tips on the nooks and cranny of Dar life, for you next trip to Dar.
Please share your thoughts in the comments section.Don't forget to share and subscribe.
Till next time, I wish you my lovely readers a prosperous month full of God's blessings!
 Outfit details
 Dress :Thrifted
Headgear: Made from a kikoi I bought in Dar es Salaam
Shoes: Same here

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Wednesday, August 30, 2017

GOLD PUMPS?

They say that the right pair of shoes can change the feel of an outfit...but what could you do with a gold pump?
 Good evening lovely people.I know it's been a while since we met here but I am sure we have bumped into each other somewhere on the internets.Sharing what I have been up to would take up the whole of this post and two others, but I sure hope you're doing well.The weather though?It's below zero in Eldoret...smh
Nevertheless,I'd love to share with you guys different ways in which you can wear and style your gold pumps and today's look is one of those.
As it is, gold will almost work out with all solid colors and it gets even more interesting when the color is bright.That explains why I settled on this orange, long-sleeved pull-neck top.The original idea was to do two solid colors but then I decided to throw in some prints and cream to give a whole different touch to the outfit.I must admit that I love the outcome and I'm curious about what you guys think!

Keep it here for more looks from this series. Don't forget to share and subscribe.
Till next time, adios.Follow me on Instagram @beinglynn for more of this look
Love, Lynn
Make up: Ma'chichi
Skirt: Tailored
Top: My closet
Shoes: Zion Eldoret

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Thursday, July 13, 2017

HII NI NINI LYNN?


Hosting golden rule number 1...don't try out a new recipe when you're expecting guests.
There's this one time I had some friends coming over for a get together meeting. I woke up pretty early and started quarreling with the dishes and the sufurias in good spirit...it was lit and by around midday everything was ready.
Let me tell you a little story: My only sister got married last year and if you come from the Luo community or  if you are married to a Luo then you will agree with me that traditional Luo marriage ceremonies are a big feat. Neighbors will ask
"To chuoreno nobiro gi mtokni adi?" "How many cars did that husband of hers come with?"
We actually just like to celebrate events with food.It is not a celebration if there's no food.Once a while you'll hear someone complaining;
"Ne wadhi e liel no to waayo gi dhowa" Loosely translated "We went to
that funeral and left with our mouths"
I once overheard a woman calling out at another from across the road, 
"Neee tim piyo ring liel borumo nwa."
"Look, please hurry we'll miss the funeral meat"

So yes, even in funerals, the spirit of celebration remains. My folks actually judge the greatness of a send off ceremony by the number of cars that occasion the ceremony  (and their models) and by the quantity and quality of food that is served. More accurately by the number of cows that are slaughtered.
Back to my story...on the material day of my sister's traditional wedding, we woke up early, made sure every corner of the house and the compound was neat and then we got to cooking, the main agenda of the day.In case you're planning on marrying a woman from the lakeside, let me let you in into a little fun fact.There are people who will accompany you to the girl's home purposely to eat. Just that. Eat.
So we cooked and cooked and cooked all sorts of delicious dishes which everyone present enjoyed and downed with good old soda.You'd be very justified if you caught feelings in Luoland for missing a bottle of soda.
Fast forward to the following day which was on a Monday. We're seated outside having brunch..most of which was leftovers from the previous evening. See, I don't know if this is just a problem with me or there's anyone out there I share this disability with.I call it a disability because life is too short not to do the things you love. And seventy five percent of the time all I want to do is eat.If I was randomly asked by a stranger about what I enjoy doing most, eating would top the list.It is a fact that is not contested. But then, the problem is once I spend a lot of time preparing food, when it's time to eat I lose my appetite. Especially when when it comes to chapatis.So on the previous day while everyone else was eating I was running up and down trying to ensure that everything is perfect for the occasion. Allow me to digress :
I traveled up country on Saturday and earlier that Sunday morning I remember my mum asking another cousin of mine and I, "Kokeu muwicho malich go be biro tedo ma  luok sende?" "Will those painted nails cook and clean utensils?"
I will not mention that we cooked almost four packets of chapat and attempted to bake a cake that awfully backfired because we'd forgotten to put in some baking powder. So all I can remember is that after all the cooking and moving up and down I had a bite of a piece of chicken and ugali.Brunch was going to be payback time.
Back to our brunch, we're all seated in a tent that had been pitched outside the house ; my aunts, cousins, mum, brothers...It's a full house.There is a lot of food to go on but amidst everything my attention is drawn to some sweet looking wet fried beefy beef . I decide to give it a try and oh my....It tasted different. There was a bit of sourness (not sure if this is the right word) that is not kawaida but I know it was good.If you are a food lover then you know the feeling you get when something is so yummy it seduces your taste buds.
So I ask my mum how it was done and she refers me to my little brother (insert grin and popping eyes)So I'm like huh?I know my bro is a good cook but this was too good.He makes some of the best chapatis by the way.I'm not ringing(siringi )I'm just saying.No, I think I'm ringing. Dear ladies, your men will not tell you this, but they secretly added 'Ability to cook soft round chapatis" to the list of qualifications for wiving you. If he hasn't asked you just know that someone somewhere is making them soft chapat (and prolly sitting on them)
I bet my mum would disown you if you were her child and you didn't know how to cook....LOL (Pun intended)
So at that point I give my little bro a wry smile and before I can pop the question he interjects:
"Just do your wet-fried beef the kawaida way then instead of letting it simmer with water, add yoghurt"
"That's easy" I tell myself.
Fast forward to the day when I was hosting these friends of mine for lunch, beef was amongst the key dishes I planned to prepare.I was all psyched up to try my brother's magical recipe, and I was looking forward to answering a whole ton of questions regarding my dish. On the eve of the get together as is the norm for me, I bought all the ingredients I'd need to ensure that I had everything ready,woke up early the following day and got to cooking.
All was going well....Every other dish was ready, the chicken in my cooking pieces pot were having a spa treatment, my wet fried beef looking all savoury and my chapos looking like manna.The only step left was for me to add in the yogurt.
Now, I had sent someone to buy the yoghurt but I never specified the flavour I needed. So he got me vanilla because he knows that it's my favorite (He totally thought I wanted to eat it.)By the way, do we eat Yorghurt or drink yoghurt ? I have always drank yorgurt but recently someone tried challenging my nursery school teacher's ability to teach English. I still remember my nursery school teacher and the way she used to flog us with flip flops...On occasions when she was extremely agitated she'd hurl a flip flop at whoever it was making her teaching career difficult.Mmhhh.The woes of being a village girl.
Any-who,  I opened the can and poured a about a quarter cup of the yogurt into the sufuria containing the beef while stirring with a curious face.A few stirs later, the devil started whispering things into my ear.Bad things...very bad things.
Add more...I added
Add more...I totally generously, shamelessly added.
This went on and on and by the time I was done adding, the yoghurt can was empty and that is the time it actually hit me that I should have called my brother and asked for clarification on quantities. It tasted more of mala than meat and instead of a rich brown color I got a sad looking creamish thing.
What to do? We gathered together as everything that makes up Lynn and had a brief meeting that led to us making a decision on two things
Thing one: We were not going to throw away one and a half kilograms of beef.
Thing two: We were not going to tell the guests shit about what happened with the recipe.The heck we were not going to tell them what that was called....yogurt beef?Beef yoghurt? Beef sprinkled with yoghurt? Beef in yoghurt?I tried to coin one of those names expensive restaurants use to justify overcharging you but failed miserably.
Long story short, despite all that drama going on in the sufuria, I neatly and shamelessly served the beef and set it on the table alongside the other dishes.The bowl came back empty....
Now I cannot share with you what happened because I also don't know.
Enjoy the rest of your week folks!

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Monday, June 26, 2017

MR. ALMOST

Courtesy:chobirdokan

I was woken up by the soft splattering  sound of the morning rain and his warm masculine hands holding my fingers above my head."I love your nails" he murmured in something that sounded like a drunken voice.I love his voice in the morning. It's just the perfect way to wake up.It's something between a croak and a husk and it could wake you up from any sweet dream.

Several minutes later I was standing in the middle of the cast iron roofless bathroom that so gracefully stands behind his grass-thatched house.As I scooped the lukewarm water that he'd so dutifully boiled using his three-stoned fireplace and poured it on my back, several things crisscrossed my mind.I had known him for years, yet I knew nothing about him, save his name.What made him happy?My nails perhaps. Just my nails?

I kept wondering if he was real, if he was psycho, or if he was a keeper.I knew he loved me, but I couldn't quite place that love.I was there, right in that bathroom in flesh, but my mind had left me, my soul and my heart had conspired to leave, to explore the possibility of understanding him.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, he was standing right outside with an old tired towel that appeared like it had wiped more bodies than a mortuary attendant's hands had.I looked at his rather cold face and was met with his ever smiley eyes and for the very first time, I noticed how clean cut his facial features were. Eyes that could see right through you and a jawline that said: "I am he".We were both stuck in a moment of awe; I can't exactly explain what got him staring, but I can tell you what got me staring.

I briskly walked back into the hut, avoiding eye contact with his eyes and voila!just like magic, breakfast was served, stir-fried sweet potatoes and African tea spiced with some rosemary and lemon grass.I didn't know so much about him but I sure knew he had a good taste in the fine things this life has to offer.I included.*wink

We ate in silence and no one said anything about the previous night.Perhaps the tea was that good.Good enough to just make you want to gulp it and do nothing else.Even so, more thoughts flooded my mind. I wondered if he had any aspirations, about what kind of future he wanted, if he was just an average man or if he wanted to be extra. Amidst all these thoughts, I saw a bright future, that maybe one day he'll build a better house, that one day he'll be able to pipe some water into that house, that one day his bathroom will have a roof, and that his spring metal bed will be a thing of the past 
.
He suddenly opened his mouth to say something when I was rudely interrupted by a call from the chomelea guy asking me to go pick my basin. 

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Wednesday, June 21, 2017

KILLING YOUR HUSBAND 101

If you can picture a little dark puppy that has been kicked too many times and is lost in a crowd of strangers, then you'll have Ted, my ever so quiet colleague. This morning he is looking a little more beaten than he usually is, perhaps he had a bad weekend or he forced himself to come to work today.Wait, maybe he went out on a drinking spree last Friday and woke up on Monday morning at the same spot he was when he ordered his last beer.

Ted's desk is situated directly opposite mine and that makes me quite uncomfortable.Uncomfortable because each time I look at him, I am reminded of my own self, my sick in the head husband, his family which is ever sticking their noses into our affairs and the constant emotional and physical abuse that I have had to take from him for four years.

Courtesy:CIO.com





 I'm pretending to be concentrating on typing nothing on my computer but behind all the pretense is a broken nose, a black eye and several bruises hidden under my turquoise blouse. Last night was just like any other; Anger, insensitive words, jabs, knives, brooms, insults, rape.But tonight, for the sake of Ted and every other black puppy out there, I will kill Joe. I bought some poison last week but I didn't get to use it because after leaving for work on Friday, the next time I saw him was on Monday evening. Then I told myself that he deserved a slow, painful death, so I bought a knife.A butcher's knife.I am going to skin him like a pig is skinned before it's meat is cut into pieces and sold to the rich and the poor alike.Except I won't sell his pieces.I will stack them up in my fridge and dissolve him in nitric acid, a piece a day until he is all gone.
His nosy family which always defends his actions will call me and ask about him.I will tell them that he left last Friday the way he usually does and I haven't seen him since.

We will look for him, together, like a family does.I will be the one to report his case to the police as a missing person and gracefully pay the most popular daily to put up his picture on the front page.We will cry together like a family, except we will be crying for different reasons. Mine the tears of a widow mourning her husband and theirs the tears of the uncertainty of what could've happened to your loved one.

It's a busy day at work, but my mind is not settled. After tonight it will be all over.I am excited and scared at the same time.Excited because Joe will never harm me again and scared because I have never murdered anyone in my life, I have had some thoughts cross my mind but I have never pre-empted and planned one.

At exactly 4.32 pm my phone beeps with a message notification. I can see it's from Joe but I am hesitant to read it because as usual he is either asking me to prepare supper for his boys or he is informing me that he won't be coming home tonight.Nevertheless, I make up my mind to open it and shock on me, he is asking me about what time I'm getting home.Is he planning to kill me too?Has our marriage reached a point where he thinks we can both take poison and die for love?Did I do something wrong?Did I forget to blend him some juice for when he comes back from work?With all these questions competing for answers in my mind, I simply text back and say "I'm leaving the office in ten".No response.Anxiety.Ted is observing me wondering what's up while at the same time trying to hide beneath his geek glasses. Where did he buy this pair of shitty glasses though?

I pass by Karanja's Kitchen Household Shop and ask for the sharpest most expensive butcher's knife they have.Karanja is not in but I am met by a lousy looking, very light skinned girl whose eyebrows look like they had an argument and each is walking in the opposite direction.She's bubbly though.She says in a thick Kikuyu accent "Umeamua kufanya upgrade ya kishen? "I nod in agreement while giving her the kind of smile I give Joe when we are out in the public attending some wedding or doing barbecue with his friends.

I get home at about 7.30, the weapon that is going to brighten my life safely stacked in the inner pocket of my trench coat.Our  Luhya watchman is looking extremely jubilant, perhaps he was given some before he left home for his night shift.My hands are shaking and I'm sweating profusely but I manage a "Habari ya jioni".

Lights are on in my house and that means Joe is home, probably cussing and smoking his lungs out.He is definitely practicing out the kind of insults he's going to hurl at me when I open the door.
"Well boo, you're having your last supper tonight, and when we slip into bed to sleep the day off, Imma slit your throat, slit your stomach open and say hi to your intestines. The intestines that I feed with my 10k salary while you spend all your money on booze and women," I mutter to myself as I ring the doorbell.
Joe does not hesitate to open the door as he usually does when he gets home before I do.I don't have a spare key and sometimes I have to wait at the door for 30 minutes before he drags his feet to open up.Joe is handsome.He is not averagely handsome.He is handsome. He has these eyes that are always saying "hi good to see you" or "goodbye I can't wait to see you again".His full lips are to die for and Johnny Depp has nothing on his nose. My husband is quite a looker. This evening he looks a bit sassy, unsettlingly sassy actually and as I walk in he gives me a light peck on the cheek and I reward that with the same smile I gave the girl at Karanja's shop.
I lump my handbag and laptop bag on the sofa and what I see on the floor almost makes me lose my breath.If I recall correctly,  I almost choked. Dinner is all set with beautiful scented candles all laid all over the floor.Before I can even process this, he reaches out behind me and helps me take off my trench coat.Joe bought me this trench coat to appease me one time after I found a strange luminous green thong in the pocket of his leather jacket.He had insisted that the thong was mine and I knew it wasn't.We both did.That afternoon he had a pretty navy blue trench coat and a bunch of flowers delivered to my office, then we lived happily in unforgiven lies everafter.So I remember the knife and quickly snatch the coat from him saying "I'll take it to the bedroom" He interrupts and softly says " No, tonight I need you to rest, I'll take it"...

My throat ran dry and at that very moment, I wanted to call Ben, his best friend, and colleague and ask him if Jesus had paid a courtesy call to their office.I let him have his way and as he briskly walked into our bedroom a light streak of panic ran through my heart.What if he finds the knife? What will I say?is this the night I die?He'd severally beaten me something good for very trivial things.What would he do if he figured out that I wanted to kill him?

Several seconds later he emerged from the bedroom with a familiar grin on his face and I knew that all was well.My game plan was still intact.We spent the next several minutes munching our food in silence. The food was super delicious, I wanted to compliment him, but then again I  told myself that you don't say such sweet things to someone when you know pretty well that later you're gonna kill them.So I kept silent and once or twice I caught him stealing suggestive glances at me.His smile is so heavenly it can make you forget how much of a bad day you're having. I remember teasing him once that his smile can make cramps go away in an instant. Oh, Joe.There was a light moment in my head and I didn't even notice I had a smile plastered all over my face; Not the one I give him when we step out, but a genuine, real smile that came from my heart, not until he softly asked why I was smiling so shyly.
Before I could utter a word, he held my right hand, with all the food all over it, and looked into my eyes like he hasn't in ages, perhaps the last time he looked at me like this was when he asked me to marry him.I froze...
I woke up at 6 the following morning, two hours later than I usually do, the air was filled with Joe's cologne and so was our bed and the living room and everything in between. I had to skip breakfast because otherwise, I'd be late for work.When I got to the office Ted was there, in his usual spot, looking as beaten as usual.I felt sorry for him but then I said to nobody in particular : "Suck it, last night was the best night of my life!"

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Saturday, June 17, 2017

THUG IN A SUIT

I met this guy at an art exhibition event at the Louis Leakey Auditorium at the Nairobi Museum.By the way how, many times have you been to the Nairobi National Park?Let me not ask you about the Nairobi Museum.We Kenyans have a stinking habit of wishing for everything we don't have and not appreciating the little we already have.Is it even little? It's too much.People travel from all over the globe to come and spend time with animals at the Mara but back here we just lenga them like they're finishing our oxygen. Just like they lenga you when you're new in a company, people treat you like you've come to steal their jobs...unless you're an intern, which they'll love by the way.Some of them will even buy you lunch and offer to shine your shoes.Why?Because you will do all their dirty gigs, which by the way makes up 75 % of what their job description is about.They make you  a wheelbarrow.
Photo:collins



I digress...now back to our story.Once in a little while I just like to go out and smell the air outside my house.So on this particular day at the museum, I met Ted. Ted has the features of a serial killer.Not in a malicious way , but he has an emotionless face and body.My job has taught me to listen a lot to the things people don't say in conversations. Their body language, the emotions they express with their faces, what they do with their hands, the intensity with which they say their words blah blah blah.And within the first 10 minutes of conversation with a stranger, usually I will have given them a personality.

But this Ted guy was just there.He wore old looking, beige ankle length boots, a pair of  navy blue khaki trousers and a grey sweatshirt.This should have given one an impression that he is an easy cool guy but that would change immediately you looked at his face.He has a deep, cold but emotionless stare and you'd easily spot him in a crowd because he wears eyeglasses with overly strange polka dot themed frames.

He was standing a meter away from where I was, staring at an abstract painting named "Wind and the wild". I just love how you can get so much information just by looking at a good piece of art.Just like in poetry or music, you consciously get into the shoes of the artist, and I just adore how much art expresses emotion; Love, pain, anger, hunger, you name it. He was staring at the painting, I was staring at him.I was lost in it....trying to place him.I was not even in that show room...I was probably in the deep of Niagara falls trying to save my life while at the same time trying to understand how such beautiful things came into existence(I mean the Niagara falls)
 I was startled from my sequence of thoughts  by his voice
"Hi" he said casually
Do you see why I say this guy has the mannerisms of a serial killer?I didn't notice him turn or even walk towards me.All I know is that he was suddenly standing in front of me with his polka dot glass frames and a smile that was obviously faked.Or real...I don't know.

'Hi,' I responded ,obviously trying to remain cool.We spent the next few minutes talking about art, poetry and music.

There was art and then there was high tea.Tea and coffee and Milo and cocoa. Why do they call it high tea and then tag along every other beverage?There's some things a village girl like me will never get to comprehend. Just like the pizza craze.I grew up in a small town in Western Kenya and the only pizza we knew was chapat. The first time I set my eyes on pizza was when I joined the University of Nairobi as a first year.I had my own share of testing waters and trying new things, pizza being one of them, but I have never lost sleep because of it.What's pizza though?Is it not wheat and some meat or vegetables? What makes women...sorry chics in this city go kuku over it? Is it the toppings?Is it the cheese? Or the thrill of belaboring yourself with that huge box? Perhaps one of these fine days I'll stop craving mahindi boiro and start craving pizza and gikmakamago(things like that)

So Ted and I headed over to the catering stand, walking toe to toe like we'd showed up at the event together.He is quite a talker.One of those people you have a conversation with and ten years later, the conversation is still playing out in your head, like a James Bond movie.
The coffee had such a rich, refreshing aroma, you could tell, by just that, that it had been brewed well well.In  situations where I have to choose between tea and coffee though , tea always takes the day.Don't get it twisted, I'm not a tea person.One day I'll tell you a story about how sometimes I wish ugali was a usual thing at the breakfast table.

We found a table, at the far end of the garden.I then set my sling-bag on one of the chairs and sat on the next while Ted sat across the table. He likes his coffee black and sugar less. By the way, sometimes men cringe from the thought of speaking to a lady or even asking her out because they fear being judged, talked about or even rejected . Lol...I read somewhere that some of us are still single because we walk in packs of ten mean, judgmental looking women...sorry, chics.

You know what, if you think you're being judged,you're right. We judge every word you say and everything you do.We judge your clothes, your taste in restaurants or ice cream joints, we judge your shoes, your haircut,  your toothbrush.We judge your cologne, your friends, your words.We absolutely judge everything.

I will not tell you what I thought of the glaring fact that Ted likes his coffee black and sugar less but I can tell you something about how he kept the conversation going. Never a dull moment.See, even men have blonde moments where they totally have no idea of what to say about the topic on the table.There's this one time I was having small talk with some dude.We talked about so many things and then at some point I asked him this
Me:How is the shilling doing against the dollar?
Him: Hiyo ni nini?
Me:..................
He is the same guy who told me he is a foodie and when I asked what kind of food he loves he told me yeye ni foodie wa viatu. That he does that in his free time
Now Ted is a chatterbox but he is a knowledgeable fella.He may be wearing polka dot glasses but is not lacking in this area. Whether you want to talk about Beyonce's baby bump or Danielle Steel's latest piece of work, he is game. He actually remembers that in the third episode of season 2 of Game of thrones, Craster bursts John Snow spying on him, captures him and beats him something good. We even made a toast to both agreeing with the fact that John Snow has a pretty face.I think he was about to be born a girl then God changed His mind because no one would get into his character as well as he does.

I noticed Ted never let on  much about himself. Our conversation mostly revolved around things that were neither me or him.

I never realized how fast time had gone and by the time I remembered my home is about 40 kilometers away, it was 6.27pm. That is how you know that you have had a great time. Free advice gentlemen; irrespective of where she stays or the workload of things she needs to do at home, if she keeps asking "Ni saa ngapi " or if she keeps saying "it's getting late" ,just shut the f up and see her off.You're boring AF.

So at this point I decide to request for an Uber. Five minutes later the Uber guy calls and as I try explaining to him my exact location, this suave stud excuses himself for the washroom.Boy did he have a nicely rounded, masculine bumper!

The Uber driver had a thick Meru accent, the type that makes Meru's add an o at the end of the word Narok and end up calling it Naroko. So we had a bit of a hiccup trying to locate each other because he kept asking "Uko musiam hiw?"Are you at museum hill?
I'm done with the call but Ted is not back. After waiting for about three minutes I decide to take off.If I have ever waited for you for 10 minutes then you should call a press conference and address the nation because you're special. I am not a good waiter (is there anything like that?)
So I get up, straighten my dress and lean sideways to pick my bag...
My sling bag is gone.

About that dope piece of art up there, talk to Collins Thinktank Okello

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