Archer asked for “STAMINA”

Archer asked for “Six Things About Milo IN A tag”
I usually hate rules so I won’t post them or tag anyone else.
I’d rather bring up stuff that happened in 2007-2008. So here are my six “Me I Ps”:
Me I:
PIMP (Peed In My Pants)
This was the highlight of the year. It started out early on a Friday at around 3pm at the Boardroom aka Mwendas. By the time I was done there (1am) I’d have been giving a Bia Bora truck compe in terms of product content were it not for several pit stops to the little boys room for big men. Still had time/energy for an extra 2 hours in westi before hitting the sack. So I got up to the ever effective alarm signals from the unmentionables demanding audience with sanitation facilities. Having slumbered in the sitting room, I had to make my way to the bedroom and in the process lost all sense of direction and balance. I was quickly brought back to my senses by the impact of my eye-brow and nose against the edge of the bedroom door. Working in close tandem, the various parts of my body managed to signal massive pain to my brain, organize for a sharp intake of breath and release three drops in quick succession reminiscent of the tommy-guns of WWII. Needless to say the drops weren’t tears, sweat or blood.
PINT (Perennially have an INTerest in mwendas)
See PIMP above. I’ve been labeled furniture at Mwenda’s, I’m asked to book guys seats and tables, I receive texts and calls on a loose Monday afte asking if I’m at the Boardroom. What do I say? That’s the place for me except on Wednesdays from 9pm when I religiously report to Galileo’s for Kidum, the BodaBoda band and their dancing lady of the Madum-dums (Mawetetes – Naks 08). It’s changed my drinking habits from 15 on Fri and 24 on Sat to 2 daily (then 15 and 24 on … LOOOOOOL)
PLAY (PLease myself very eAsilY)
I’ve been described as one to enjoy cheap thrills and juicy stories. I am also known to take matters into my own hands aka a hands-on person. I love my fun and would rather have more, than less, things that make me happy cos the things that please those that are hard to please, please me too. Hope you get me please…
PLAN (Probably Lost A really Nice girl)
Could be cause I’m stubborn, proud or simply just a nyangau. Then again, in looking out for number one people often encounter others that are also doing the same. The best-laid ones of mice and men…
POSE (POssibly Should Engage myself more)
Been bumming for two years. I started school again 3 weeks ago and start work mid this month. Given my experience I guess I can unleash a training seminar called “Bum-boocha”, “Oh bummer” or even “Bum-baNet” and teach the people how to do it in style. Nubian Queen, can I use your avatar as my logo??? LOL!
PROD (PReviously OrganizeD wild parties)
Yep, and didn’t my friends love me for it (hence the PIMP). BYOB and I supply the venue, extras and music. There’s something about a party that mimics the male to female ratio of the country that adds extra taste to liquor and heightens enjoyment. Hmmm, there are times I’ve enjoyed so much that an extra “w” was added to the word to make it enjwoyment or better still mwenjwoyos…Those were the times I’d wish I was me and have the extra pleasure of remembering that I was!!!

Ok Archer, I'm done...

One cold night in KENYA!!

One cold night in KEeping up with NYAng’aus!!
I’ve had three major incidences with my car. Two were accidents, one was a carjacking. The only common factor in all these was that there was a woman involved (apart from my being there too hihihihi)… I’ve already blogged about two of these i.e. Starlet to body, 60MPH and Jacked at SOUTH B.
The third was the most painful. Sniff.., But I’ve attained a state of Mukti/Moksha and can now safely reveal what happened.
Cueing the cues..
One cold night in Kenya, my pal Henny had the ideal gal for the moment: long on looks, short on morals; ample on booty, scarce on attire. And she had friends… So we were chillin at Crooked Q, Milo displaying his cue-talents on table, Henny having his crooked chalked. Then her pals decide we need to head over to K2. Now back in 2003ish, K2 used to bamba vi-proper. I wouldn’t have budged an inch as I was on a roll (ninth game bila loss) but the M. I. C. ie Mamiso In Charge seemed to want a hot cup of steamy Milo, seemed to love ma-hepi regardless, seemed to want me to comment on her blogspot (if you know what I’m sayin…) LOOOOOOL
All roads lead to...
So I begrudgingly gave away my winners and proceeded to head for K2, max’mum speed, min’mum delay. All was going well, mkwajus/mikwaju beginning to stiffen, adrenalin kiasi, hopes up high. The music in the car was loud and clear; the mood Ol Skool. “I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller…” One could almost imagine that Skee-Lo was seated in the back seat performing live much thanks to Sony Xplod speakers, Kenwood tweeters and the 600W Alpine woofer (woof! woof!). The irony of the song was yet to hit us, literally!!
Alas, at the Haile Selassie-Uhuru highway round-a-bout having joined and negotiated a majority of the semi-circle, a Yellow-Red canter decides to jump in bila warning. Brake-pedal to floor, screeching of tyres clutching tarmac for dear life and the smell of burning rubber. Seems at that moment my ABS just stood for my brakes asking “Assi! Be Serious??” There was grinding and gnashing of teeth as the whole of my bonnet was condensed and mangled into a fist of sorts. Canter on receiving the brunt of force from 199x car on 197x body suffered the type of scratch one wouldn’t even humor with elastoplast!!
Surely, surely!!!!!
Now this is where things got interesting. Canter proceeds to head up Upper Hill road undeterred and unconcerned!! There’s madharau and then there’s madharau – I swear! Father-au even!!! Anways, Rav4, now reduced to kedo Rav1.5, was in quick pursuit and I managed to head the nyang’au off somewhere just before Railway club. Jumping out of said Rav, an enraged Milo accosts the canter driver (a Justice wannabe with two twilight nyangaus by his side). No niceties are exchanged but canter keys are confiscated and 999 is dialed. As we patiently await the arrival of Watumishi kwa Wote pigmy decides to show his mamisos his macho side. “If you are bila insurance and cant pay to have your car repaired that’s yours! I can afford to have mine repaired! And no one touches my car keys just like that. Return them before things get bad!!!” he pipes in English laced with a KhoiSan accent.
Revenge of the Drunken Master...
Now I was mad, super-hyper-irate!!!! As the dwarf approached, Milo’s jujitsu, ninjitsu, fujitsu training took over and I was in a zone. Hand-to-body, sneaker-to-butt collisions rendered said vertically challenged individual prostrate on the cold tarmac, whimpering and begging for mercy. Trust Henny, who had been hiding behind me all the while, to suddenly appear at the forefront (when the adversary was on the ground) administering Timberland kicks to torso and unleashing shouts of “Kwenda!! Ghasia!!!”

The rest is a story for another day but the ladies we were transporting ended up in K2 courtesy of the ladies’ everpresent plan B as Henny and I awaited the cops andstatement/insurance/excessmisery!!!Nyangaus! Nyaaaaaaannnnggggggaaaaaaaauuuuuuus!!!!!

OesoFUNGUS

OesoFUNGUS (FUNky GaseoUS)
A collabo with the one and only loonie mate

Proximus Maximus
Ever sat next to a person emitting rancid fumes from the eseo… oseo… eoso… oose… whateva… phagus? Jeez, this guy can do you some damage!! Can anyone in the house spell h.a.l.i.t.o.s.i.s?? And to make matters worse, the polluted halitus is accompanied by vapid, insipid speech punishing the nose and ears in a two-pronged tag-team-like attack.

Peek-a-boo
OFFENDER: NOW the breath is usually HOT and HUMID, usually from the depths of the pharynx. It's usually Meaty...and if early in the morning u can trace tea and bread smell (usually the unsliced type). It's released in one gusto...or in whispered motions if the person is aware. The lips as aforementioned (actually mentioned lower down) move like a presidential escort to clear way for incoming tornado vapours.

OFFENDED: The wave hits the nostrils with the fury of Katrina. There is blurred vision sometimes loss of balance sometimes incoherent mumblings of agreement... You instantly tear up, blink. Reflex urges are muted and u can’t sneeze...u feel ur toes and nose-hairs curl up. Ur smell centres discern the different smell... and for sure they confirm that's a new kind of nasty. You try not to breathe. You try to breathe via exhaling only but your body reaffirms some inhaling is required...you shy away from the smell and breathe south south west of the direction...but that smell is good in hide and seek-it creeps up on u and screams "GOTCHA!" and for sure you have been had!

Waiting to Exhale
For some reason or other, those blessed with this condition have the tendency to exhale while speaking (pre, during and post each word) generating a machine-gun like assault on the nostrils further aggravated by a rain-shower of saliva, worthy of an umbrella. They use words like ehhhhh, ahhhh and ohhhhh that require exhalation to enunciate properly – sheez these guys!!!! Their faces (cracked lips et al) approach yours in some warped reminder of perspective from Art lessons bringing nasal destruction and gloom nearer, oh so nearer!!!

Ever heard of mints my guy, ever heard of mints? In fact, the guy probably needs the mint SWAT team.

Tidbits

• These guys usually have lips that are flared in a 'don’t touch my teeth' direction...yaani them lips are like running away from the pungent odiferous volcanic eruptions happening from within
• Now, a closer CSI interior look shall reveal, remnants of undigested...or unchewed chunks lodged within pockets. At some point some ndengu seeds even start germinating but the extra free oxygen doesn’t help matters.
• They splatter away in speech, and if by bad luck a drop happens to land on u...do not wipe, do not touch...just let it dry out...
• These people are the type that wipe their mouth with their hands and hold doors and shake hands and u end up wondering if they had just visited the loo...trust me you’re luckier with the latter
• These people are the same ones that fall asleep behind/beside u in a mat with the mouths open and they ventilate you collar in ways that violate u more than Instigator's last post

Putting the Moves
Their whispering of sweet nothings to the ears of the lovelies emit fumes of neat swathings wrapped around a decaying mummy… If this guy happens to be a kao doctor, when he asks you to “say haaaaa” you do not require anaesthesia as you’ll be out for the count - for quite a while.

Wira ni Wira
Anyway, I can see at least 3 jobs they are guaranteed to get:

• Anti-riot police to replace contents of tear-gas canisters with upepos ma-smelly
• Pest control – no need to fumigate. Get the guy sleepy and then release him to yawn continually in the target room.
• WWE wrestling champion - a finishing move called Breathalyzer - Alcoblow kando...

Na msisahau ku-floss meno leo jioni!!!