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Brave New World Part 6 | Austin, Texas: Making Meats End

Brave New World Part 6 | Austin, Texas: Making Meats End

“Don’t mess with Texas”. I’m not sure where I heard that, or who said it, but there’s something about the line that just sticks with you. No other state/country/locale invites you in a threatening manner. Heck, even France that would be perfect with the “F” word doesn’t let you in with a “don’t fiddle with France” declaration. Read more

Where sleep and I disagree

Where sleep and I disagree

It’s 11pm. The apostrophe key on my laptop is sentient and figured there’s no real reason it should exert itself on a public holiday.

I’m all for breaks, but I don’t really care for using the full form of a word when I can bridge the gap with a bloody punctuation mark.

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The mouth’s an orifice,er, office

The mouth’s an orifice,er, office

I don’t understand dentists. I’m not implying that they speak an entirely different language or whatever. I just don’t get what could possibly inspire someone to decide that they would absolutely love to pursue a career that involves looking into people’s mouths and poking around. It’s beyond me.

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What's up… docs?

This PC responds pretty fast. You know what would be really cool… if the internet was loading pages with the same resolve. But then again, outside the blog-sphere, what else am I going to surf? The gadget blogs are taking their sweet time to update. And even then, I log on with some preconceived expectation that never yields much. I have a rough idea of what portable media player I want (Zune HD, santa!) and what kind of phone I’m after (Nokia’s X6 or X3…or Sony Ericsson Aino, santa you red suited so and so, are you listening? Are you reading?) so why do I bother to keep checking. It only serves to confuse me further. I’ve harboured lustful thoughts for HTC’s Pure, but I suspect it is just a phase…

What sort of doctor’s are you guys consulting? It used to be such that I’d go see some graying old man with what may or may not have been whooping cough and then left after getting my diagnosis. In fact, I could comfortably say that I looked forward to these visits with about as much anticipation as an animal about to have its ****icles removed without anesthesia… lately however, I go see my doctor and it’s like I’m visiting an old friend, not an old fiend.

Then it got interesting (with a shade of weird)…

I’ve matured to the point that the doctors I go see are peeps I went to school with. And I don’t mean that in a “what school did you go to, I was there 30 years ago, where you even born’ sort of way. These people were either my classmates or a year below. I never seem to visit doctors that were a few classes ahead, which is just as well, coz I wouldn’t trust the guy that asked me to go and fill his bottomless cup with sugar from my ‘grab box’. Dude may ask me to fill his bank account with similar qualities…

The thing is…

I’m not comfortable relaying issues confidential to people I went to class with either. It’s not so much that they will be flappin’ their gums the moment the opportunity arises… but shit, what if?

I don’t want to be meeting peeps in social circles and havin them cast the sympathetic eye my way and saying, “Ivan” sigh “Man, I’m sorry, but that shit goes away…”

And for all I care, the peeps in the lower classes may have a score to settle. What if they prescribe something that elicits the following response when the ‘moment’ arises (I was going to say, ‘when the moment comes’ but that would have been much too easy’)… so when the moment arises, “stop playing, where’s the rest of it?’

Random Instance(s) Of Thought

My internet is a bitch. Keeps going down on me at the worst times. It gets so bad, I wonder why I even bother with the ISP, maybe I should just pull out.

kennyrogers In other news, I finally got some Kenny Rogers music! I know this will probably sound odd, but I was so pleased with myself. So much so that I called my brother and told him I had 42 Kenny Rogers tracks. He was not moved. I don’t get it. Dude loved the oldies, what happened? Did he ‘style’ up when he discovered rock music? No matter, I will call up my other brother;

-Dude, I have Kenny Rogers!
-Sorry?!
-No, dude.I.Have. Kenny ROGERSSSSSS!
-slight pause.- why?
-Coz this stuff is awesome. Classic stuff! Come on, you know you want some of this!
-Er, enjoy.

The first time I mentioned my mission to find Kenny Rogers to a loved one she looked at me with what I later found out was genuine disbelief as she asked, “really?”. It’s all good though, no love lost there.

I tried to pass on some Kenny Rogers to my mother and she didn’t seem moved. She did a little dance, but I suspect that’s because she didn’t want to break my heart, bless her. but seriously people, doesn’t anyone listen Kenny anymore? What did he do to you?

My kid sister was watching Army Wives when I got back home, I don’t know why anyone would find this even remotely interesting. Isn’t it like watching The Desperate Housewives with camouflage? Yes, I caught a glimpse of DH, and the scene had this lady hike her skirt in an attempt to outdo Eva Longo-rear.

Like Dee, I too have come to appreciate Eminem’s new album (Relapse). At first listen I thought, meh, but after a while I started to appreciate some of the songs. I find that it’s always like that with an Eminem album lately. For me anyway. The song that I’m playing over and over at the moment is My Darling. Pretty neat, though there is a part where he is having an (imaginary?) conversation with some entity that could be The Devil, His Conscience, His Drug Habit. One thing’s for certain, the thing has a decent ‘flow’. Man, I’d hate for Em to come out and say that conversation was with Lucifer. Dang, that would suck.

I haven’t seen an episode of Family Guy in ages, I need to watch something funny! The Hangover was pretty cool, but I suppose I got sucked in by the 300 million or so reviews that said this was the funniest thing since Jennifer Lopez said she wanted to be taken seriously as an actress. I found a clip online with Stewie singing one of those ballads from back in the day, off the tip of my fingers, I’d say it was Glory Of Love, but I know I’d be wrong. It’s a Bryan Adams song, but this Kenny Rogers is a major deterrent to sensible thought construction.. Everything I Do! That’s the song.

My battle with insomnia persists.well sorta does, it is not so much a battle but an ass-whoopin. I am being beaten up by insomnia. I’d appreciate it if it didn’t tease me with the thirty minutes or so of sleep at the start then took it away, that shit is not funny.

Whodunnit!

My stomach hurts. Not in that way that has me hunched over begging the Lord to take what little life is left in me, but it doth hurt quite a bit. Contrary to what you may have been led to believe from my posts regarding visits to various medical practitioners, I hate drugs. Given the option I’ll inhale ‘fume of paracetamol’ any day. That is far away from hitting the shelves in pharmacies because the guys in the labs over in England are more obsessed with confirming that ducks like water.

I cannot tell with certainty from whence this pain cometh, but I have a couple of suspects (none religious, none male).

Potato Salad

My kid sister recently put together a meal comprising potatoes, mayonnaise, carrots and onions. Basically anything she could lay her fingers on in the space of about twenty seconds. I suspect if she had been given more time we would have seen some green pepper and ice cubes in the mix. These ingredients were then forced to engage in, quite possibly, the first mass wedding involving foodstuffs. The result, a delicacy known in Western circles as Potato Salad and in certain sections of Uganda as ‘Lumonde ne creamu’

Unfortunately by the time this meal was ready; I had either left the house or gone to bed. I have the worst memory. Long story short, I did not partake of it while it was still ‘fresh’.

Now, anyone that has enjoyed potato salad will be quick to tell you, the damn thing never goes bad. Whoever advances this sentiment will go on to contradict himself, “if it does go bad, you just add vinegar and voila! It is fixed”.

Before you start heaping praises upon this colorless liquid that doesn’t know whether it should be liquor or water (and just sits in the middle as food juice) it is important to note that it doubles as ‘effective’ suede cleaner.

I finally got round to eating the potato salad last night, roughly three days after it had been put together.

It is on that note that I submit to you my first suspect for the agony that wracks my body.

Meat Samosa

This one appears on the list just because it is ‘local’. It is not its fault, you realize, but it doesn’t even try to defend itself. There are no attempts to be something else. Not even an up market Samosa. You see, the thing is, when these ‘triangular flaps of dough with traces of meat ‘are presented in restaurants, they have a certain appeal. From time to time they are backed up with a slice of lemon. I don’t know who decided that lemon and meat make for a great meal. Is there some packaging some place that says, “just add lemon”? I hated the Proctor & Allan Cornflakes boxes because their serving suggestion had a banana on the side of the dish with the cereal. I think the executives at P&A went on to inbreed and gave produced offspring that came up with any odd weird combination that you may have witnessed in high school. Weetabix as Bread spread, anyone?

Suspect number two, ladies and gentlemen.

Chapati

This one came from the same shop as the samosa and my ma’ always said birds of a feather flock together. In which case, I won’t be using anything that leaves the shelves that line that establishment. Not even their toilet paper.

Hey, the pain has gone away. I guess it was just a case of THE MONDAY!

In other news, today is Africa Day. We went to work and won’t get discounts on African products, so I think it may be safe to assume that it doesn’t count for jack!

Random Instance Of Thought

I use Boda Bodas regularly. What can I say; they are a convenient way of getting around. So anyway, about two weeks ago I was heading to Nakawa and I was accosted by one of them Boda-Riders. As is the tradition, I had a figure etched in my mind, a price ceiling if you will. The Boda chap clearly had his own ceiling so I switched gears to ‘defensive’. Then he surprised me.

Boda Guy:                   Ssebo, where are you going?

Me:                                  Nakawa. How much?

(I don’t like to use too many words when so few could do)

Boda Guy:                 Nakawa? Don’t worry, I will take you. And I will take you for a good price. How much do you have?

Me:                                You’re the one with a good price, how much were you looking at charging me?

Boda Guy:                 I will take you for 5k only.

I feel the need to point out at this point that my ceiling was 3k. And in these harsh Economic times I think it is a tad disrespectful to attach the word ‘only’ at the end of monetary sums. So anyway…

Me:                                How is THAT a good deal?

I honestly can’t remember raising my voice at this point, which is why I can’t understand why he would say…

Boda Guy:                Boss, let’s not quarrel. Let us negotiate then I take you, because, me I (sic) want to take you.

Me:                               Okay, I have 3k

Boda Guy:               Eeee, can’t you give me Four thousand shillings

We have started using the word thousand instead of ‘k’. We are making progress!

Me:                              I have only three thousand. If I give you four thousand I won’t be able to go home.

Boda Guy:              You can’t raise five hundred?

Me:                              Er, no. Sorry.

Boda Guy:              Okay, let’s go.

So we headed to Nakawa and then when I got to my destination I handed over the three thousand shillings.

As I tried to cross the road…

Boda Guy:              You haven’t reached? (sic)

Me:                              It’s just across the road.

Boda Guy:              You sit, let me take you.

So that was that…and I still can’t  shake off the feeling that I was taken for a ride.

In other news:

The kid accusing Pastor Kayanja of sexually molesting him was arrested yesterday and interrogated by the police.

Pastor Kayanja was hoping that he too would have a chance to probe the boy, but Martin Ssempa and Co. had this to say, “You already did!”

My Neck, My Back Hurts JUST LIKE THAT

Let’s just dive right in shall we.

I have Spinal Spondylosis…the condition, not the movie. It is not the reason I walk with a, er, bounce. But it sure as hell is the reason it feels like my ribs are not held together and are engaged in a playful game of poke the lung every time the vehicle I am using goes over the humps that litter our roads. It is also the reason my back hurts like a bitch. Yeah, there is no colorful way of describing my back pain.

It took a while to arrive at this diagnosis by the way. In typical Ugandan fashion, the first doctor I saw said it was Malaria. Let’s think about this for a second. I have a sudden back pain, a dull ache in my right hand and the ribs in my chest feel like they are trying to have forced intercourse with my lungs and somehow this is supposed to be a strain of malaria?

How is this even remotely possible? Have the anopheles Mosquitoes enrolled in some Military school? Did the Italian Mosquitoes send some Mafia Enforcer; Don Squito? Has the virus had enough diseases like Ebola and AIDS taking its shine and decided “Screw this. You don’t know who the **** you are ****ing with!” (I don’t even know why I bothered censoring those words, what else could it be?)

So anyway, I told the doctor I didn’t think it was Malaria, but he insisted that I take the test. No lie, I hate needles, but if they will reveal what’s going on, so be it.

Results came in and….. NO FLIPPIN MALARIA!!!

However, the doctor is not buying this. “It could be hidden, take these pills.” Hidden? What the hell? Are the White Blood Cells and the Malaria parasites working together? From whence did this solidarity come?

So I took the drugs for the first day and surprise, surprise, I was still in pain! So I sought a second opinion.

I won’t name names, but this doctor is notorious for deriding our local doctors and their Malaria prescriptions. For once I was on the same page with him.

His diagnosis, “You have a long thin neck!”

Er, okay.

“Actually, you are tall and thin.”

Shit, I could have stayed at home, looked at myself in the mirror and saved myself the consultation money!

“So, your spine *something something* nerves *something something* pain”

BUT

“Let’s run some blood tests just so we can be sure we did not leave anything out”

Oh Crap, Mister! You don’t wanna do that! I have this Malaria Parasite in there that will break the friggin needle before you can get a sample!

The results; NEGATIVE for anything of significance.

So I’m told to stick with painkillers for the rest of my life. EXCITING! This brings me a step closer to being like that grouchy doctor on TV.

YET

The pain refused to go away!
It just stayed and stayed,
Stayed like it wanted to play!

So I got a third opinion! And that’s how I found out that I have Spinal Spondylosis! In as few words as possible; Spine, Bone, Poor Posture, Nerves Pressed.

Treatment

Physiotherapy!

The doctor has this little gadget that has these funny pad thingies that distribute jolts of electricity through my body. It’s an odd sensation, and I’m sure the doctor knows this.  So I don’t understand why he thinks I can sleep through the whole 30 minute ordeal. It took some getting used to, but when I finally accepted it as a friend (not on Facebook, Erique!) I just had to know its name. What do they call you, oh buzzing gizmo! Who shall I say cured me of my malady?

The doctor was only too willing to offer, “It’s called a Digital Therapy Machine!”

Are you kidding me? I was offended! You might as well slap a sticker on its side that says “Sylvia”

The doctor was on a roll. During the second session of physiotherapy, a belt like thingy was strapped around my waist.

“It will produce some heat!”

I was comfortable with that, what pissed me off was its name.

“This one is called a hot belt…”

Catch you on the other side

Other Side
I think there’s a boda boda guy trying to off me. I’m not sure but it could be for this Human Sacrifice thing that has swept the country. Everytime I jump onto his bike, I give him specific instructions… and directions. I tell him exactly where I want to go. Then I wait.

Sure as rain, he always tries to branch off to some dark place, until I tap him and say, “Boss!”

Then he goes back the way he is supposed to.

I feel compelled to tell him that I am probably not the witchdoctor’s type. I am tainted. The witchdoctor wants virgins. I’ve had sex before and I’ll be damned if I don’t have it again!

I am trying to understand what’s going on in his mind at these points, “I think he is sleeping, I can take him the other way…” Shit, speaking of ‘the other way’, maybe it’s not Human Sacrifice this guy is after…

In other NEWS

The president loves himself some ‘TOOKE‘ biscuits. Would it have killed the geniuses behind this product to sit down and think of a more awesome name… I don’t know about you, but if a kid walked up to me and said he wants money for Tooke, I’d slap him for being so obscene…

What Randomness Is This

Allow me to start off by saying I am so freaking sleepy. To that end, this will likely be one of those posts I end abruptly. Truth be told, I am making this up as I go along. I don’t know what I intend to write. I know I have bitched quite a bit about the boda boda peeps and their inherent inability to muster the art of bargaining, but shit. How hard is it to grasp. I pay person X 3000shs to get me from place A to place B. Why on earth should I have to pay you, person Y, 5,000shs for the same journey? Why would I, after telling you that I will call up ‘the regulars’ suddenly feel compelled to pay you 4,000shs? What the hell, man?

I just got my Matrix set of DVDs. The entire collection. Everything Matrixy at my disposal. I am so excited. If I were a virgin I would boldly declare that this feeling is the best thing ever. Okay, I don’t have the games or the comics…or the underwear, but shit, with a large screen and surround sound, I will be the king of the world. Me! Not Erique!!!

Sorry about that, someone slipped me some salad. I am not dieting, you realize, I am just so local. I want to be able to say I ate salad out of its tub like all the cool kids do in the movies. Not movies like the Matrix, you realize. In that one they eat blood. Technological blood and they kick tech-butt! Shit, I think I may have underestimated the excitement those DVDs brought.

This year’s first comic book movie has been released. Watchmen was in cinemas yesterday. Not cinemas in Uganda, you realize. We are doing badly. We will likely see the movie at the ‘plex in, oh I don’t know, a month. If at all. I called up the guys at the cinema and they shyly stated that they don’t know. That’s it. Not, “I don’t know when it will show”.  It was a simple, “I don’t know”. Which could mean they don’t know what I am going on about, or they don’t know what the following sequence of words aims to achieve by flowing out of my mouth, “when-are-you-screening-Watchmen”. She also laughed and for the first time in my life I didn’t think that a giggle borne out of ignorance was funny. In fact, it was downright infuriating. I am supposed to be a connoisseur of information like that. No one will think it’s cute when I answer their queries with a giggle…or a chuckle! Only person I know that can get away with it is B2B. Anyone that attempts that (and you know you likely will in the comments’ section) should be taken outside, next to the mango tree and shot…twice!

I have been getting a lot of flak for the Red Banton post. Someone decided to mail it to a couple of people and now I feel the need to set things right just in case this shit spirals out of control and lands in the wrong hands (Read: Red Banton): I didn’t mean to diss Red. I respect him as one artiste does another. I appreciate that there is a lot I could learn from him. Dude has groupies, I do not. Dude has met Measles and Weirdo…er, Mowzey Radio and Weasal! This guy is a beacon of light and I wish him well in his travels. I especially like that song he did, where he was in Love Lockdown with some Heartless chic… I think I may be mixing up my artistes.

My salad’s finished, my day done. I have to go interview a presenter for the paper, but no matter what happens… I will return.

Hey. There’s a beach party on at Iguana tonight!

Welcome to Uganda II: We have music

The newspapers have this section they keep publishing wherein they tell you how you can achieve a celebrity’s look for less. They also have a column titled ‘How To Be’, where the writer tells you, well, how you can be someone or something depending on the writer’s mood. It is these sections that have inspired me to present.

HOW TO BE RED BANTON or any other ROCO ARTIS

I know, it seems like a cheap shot, right? I mean, why would I go out of my way to pscho-analyse Tony something or the other. Well, for one thing, because I can. You don’t see me doing that on your blog do you? No. Which means I can get away with it here! Also, I suspect that Red wants to be Kanye West.

East (africa) meets West

East (africa) meets West

I don’t mean that in a bad way, but his rhyming style is sorta like, “oh look at me, I sound like Kanye”. His personality is nothing like Kanye’s. Kanye has an ego problem, Banton is a simple man. And says shit like “I’m a simple Banton-ee”.

Let’s look at Kanye’s flow then, for good measure, Red’s.

Kanye: Who killin em in the UK. Everybody gonna to say you K, reluctantly, because most of this press don’t f**k with me. Estelle once said to me, cool down down don’t act a fool now now. I always act a fool oww oww. Ain’t nothing new now now

-American Boy

Red Banton: I used to be Red Bantoni, now I’m a simple Bantoni, no longer the one Bantoni, even my lady calls me Bantoni…

-180

Arguably, there are very few words that rhyme with Banton, so yeah, let’s work within our means. Read more