Team spirit. Not me though.

Last night, while slaving away till the wee (I like that word, and I need to pee) hours of the night as so often happens in this particular field, I had a stunning revelation. It’s not just lonely at the top, it’s retarded too. It’s mind numbingly and finger twiddlingly (no, that’s not really a word) retarded. How else do you explain an almost-head honcho suddenly canceling work at 3:00pm because we will be doing an agency clean up? We will be scrubbing (Yes, with soap) our offices and nobody will be allowed to leave until their office is spick and span. This is supposed to read as a ‘fun, team-building event and an excellent avenue for ‘bonding’ and other vague terms used to define the herding of mostly unsatisfied and unwilling agency lackeys into enclosed spaces. This is usually done with the help of frothy liquid to numb the senses into almost enjoying what would otherwise be a largely unpleasant experience. The liquid will be present…and frothy, it’s just that this time around it’s served in a plastic squeeze bottle… and my gut feeling is that if you drink it, you will die. But you’d also have the cleanest, most ‘lemon-fresh’ digestive system in the morgue, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Unintelligent experimental suggestions from jaded deputy MD’s only adds to a growing list of things that we could do without in the business. I vote to abolish
• Hour long Status/Traffic
• Time sheets
• Creative advice from client service (devil worshippers)
• Team building activities that do not include beer
And that’s just me

Babuji Rani

Every evening, without fail, something sneaks out under my neighbours door, up my walls and through the screens on my windows into my apartment, saturating it so completely that I can’t walk in any direction without stepping in it. It is the sound of intense hip movement, occasioned by the jangling of trinkets and the eventual but ever-so-certain wailings of two voices in a crazed match to tap the most unnatural pitch known to humanity. My neighbour is eighty. And I’m getting terribly tired of being forced to listen in on his Indian movies every night. I wouldn’t mind the dialogue so much (I can say chom chom) if it wasn’t for the unspoken rule that that the entire cast should break out into mad singing and dancing after the opening credits. Today I just might go and talk to bollydude about his unhealthy passion. Or maybe I should just assume that he has a hearing impairment and leave him be.

Speaking of bad sounds, there’s a new song by tattuu called ‘Songea’. Sample a choice lyrical segment.
‘Tunasonga juu, before you know it moto. Move on (repeat until you feel unclean)’...

It is a sad day when we allow such spectacularly evil work out to the detriment of the public. Masochists and other lovers of painful pleasure should feel free to listen to this delightful tune, and rest assured, your ears WILL bleed. Grant me the permission to revoke my nationality for the spell in which this song is played. I feel so violated.

Stir occasionally.

Useless client service people should be boiled in a pot on low heat. Not the good client service people. Just the useless ones. Which means you'll still have to use a pretty huge pot.

Just lose it

If you've worked in or still work in an agency before, you'll know that there are those days when you need to curse.
And curse.
And curse.
And curse.
I've only been here one week. Please help me Lord Jesus.

Vampire roaches and how to vanquish them

We have electricity rationed from 6:30am to 8:00pm, so while you have it, you use it. Last night I decided that instead of clipping my toenails and wondering whether my girlfriend cried when I left (Cause I didn't see any tears on that pretty face and the whole flight I kept thinking, 'does she really love me' and other deep questions related to life), I would read a book. So I'm lying there and this roach the size of Shrek's thumb makes a brazen dash across my bedsheet towards what could only be my neck (Either that or it was coming to perch on my back and read over my shoulder, which is equally annoying). In super-hero fashion, I swiftly rolled off the bed, eyes still on that bastard and picked up the book I was reading, about to bring it crashing down on that devil spawn. But it was a book on what happened in Zaire with Mobutu and I hadn't even gotten to the good part yet (and by this point I was highly starting to doubt that there was a 'good part' at all), so I hesitated. And the filthy beast paused. Looking at me...Taunting me. Now I was pissed. I dropped the history of Mobutu and Zaire/Congo/Drc and picked up something a lot more appropriate. I rolled up a copy of THE SOURCE and made that roach cry for his mother (or wherever roaches come from; which is probably France cos I couldn't understand what he was saying). Hip Hop is powerful. I beat that bitch til the white meat showed. Afterwards, I watched in satisfaction as it's leg gave a couple of post-expiratory twitches. My breath wasn't raspy any more and my hands had stopped shaking. I even browsed a couple of pages of that magazine. I had committed insecticide. And it felt right.

Bad briefs and two beers

My second day at the new office. I just moved into my new house last night. My house. Sounds good. Especially cos I'm payin squat for it. Anyway, after I moved in settled down, and set the AC on freeze, I fell asleep reading quotes from famous creatives the world over. When I'm a famous creative I would like to write some quotes too. Not right now though. Anyway, I woke up to a ring tone that sounded vaguely familiar. Then I really woke up and it sounded really familiar. Was the driver saying that I was meant to be in a meeting at that very minute in the office. Difficult because I was still nude. Difficult because I didn't know that there was a meeting at all. Difficult because it was my first saturday here. What happened to quality (read alone) time? Anyway, I took a cab, n got ripped off cos my swa is 'different' but it's all part of the learning experience. Walked into my first meeting an hour late and I must say it was a success. The part of it that I attended. In fact I stayed behind with my boss, beaming inside at my meaningful contributions. Then he briefed me on some work from the meeting and like a boy scout I got on it right away. As soon as I was done, I ran up to his office all beaming like 'look what I did'. Turns out I understood the brief wrong. Sullen, I walked out of the office to inflate my violated ego with good coastal food. Met a couple of my workmates who forced me to have a beer. And then another. And then I ate. I'm now back at the office. My ego feels much better... and it wasn't the drinks, I only had two. I think it was the fact that I'm going to look back at today and laugh.

P.S I have a note that says 10,000 sh on it. Inflation is wicked cool.

Get. Ghost.

WE INTERRUPT YOUR VIEWING FOR THIS SEMI-RELEVANT ANNOUNCEMENT.

That's a phrase that means leave. Bounce. Walk into the sunset. And all the other clichéd ways people say they are going away. I'm going to live and work in a new country, with hot chicks who constantly feign interest in foreigners so I'm guaranteed I'll never have a serious relationship there. Which is a good thing cos I already have one here. And with my friends threatening to get married, I'm not too averse to following suit when the time comes.

I'm going to live and work where it's freakin hot, and we have a beach a hiccup away from work. The only excuse for lack of motivation is that you forgot your swimming shorts, or you are wearing those disgusting speedos in which case you don't deserve the reprieve.

I'm going to live and work where I know nobody and nobody knows me. So I have the 'once-in-a-lifetime-miss-this-and-miss-all' opportunity to become a totally different person. And yet this will only serve to entertain me at the expense of what my new friends believe albeit for a short while, before I regress into my current self and leave them like 'hey, where did the fun guy go?'

I'm going to live and work where they have a slightly different work ethic. Nuff sed on that one. I hope I don't get absorbed.

I'm going to live and work in a different country. And I'll miss Kenya. But I'm freakin stoked all the same!!!!! Listen to Kwaito and Techno and House. It's good for your prostrate...if you have one.

little feet

These are my baby steps into the mystery that is blogging. Getting my innermost thoughts onto the web for the entertainment of random people I will never meet. It should be an epic moment. But I'm really really hungry.