I am not a big fun of political discussions. More often than not these discussions rub people the wrong way and things tend to get too intense. But today I am compelled to deviate. I feel like there’s a thorn that is lodged in my foot and the only way to pull it out is to share what’s going through my mind. If I don’t communicate these thoughts I will not only have failed myself but also my state, the human race and every other organism on this planet.
Today morning I was at my bro’s place admiring their adorable new born son (and resisting the urge to bite his tiny fingers) when I received the distressing news that Ferdinand Waititu had won the TNA nominations after beating Jimnah Mbaru. Now this not the kind of news you want to hear on a blessed Saturday morning. It is especially not the kind of news you want a promising child to hear in the first week of its existence. You don’t know what it might do to the child’s perspective toward the universe. You don’t want a child’s first words to be, “I swear this world sucks!” We were all distraught when we received the news. The little guy didn’t exactly articulate this but I could see it in his eyes.
It could be worse though. Much worse. Just take a minute and imagine seeing this headline on the dailies sometime in March…
Ferdinand Waititu Becomes The First Governor Of Kenya’s Capital, Nairobi.
Now that right there is the kind of headline that would turn me into a psychotic serial killer. It’s the kind of headline that would make a Bishop start serving Vodka to his congregation – and they wouldn’t mind. It’s that kind of headline that makes women start growing moustaches. Earthquakes and Tsunamis have been known to be triggered by such headlines. Heck the devil himself would probably throw in the towel and go like “To hell with this shit!” Then proceed to shoot himself in the head.
It’s just not right.
I simply can’t picture a world where Waititu is my Governor. Not even in the stone-age when he could have achieved his full potential. It doesn’t even sound right. Waititu should not be the Governor of Nairobi. I mean this is the kind of guy that leaves his office, perches at the back left of his car and instructs his chauffeur to drive him to the nearest obstreperous protest. His intention at this point is not to get there and apply a little diplomacy in an effort quell the riots like a true leader should. Nah. Waititu sits there stretching his triceps as he anticipates the opportunity of his lifetime… The chance to throw stones and hurl insults like an uneducated buffoon.
When a serious MP was contemplating how he would deal with insecurity in his constituency; or how he could create employment opportunities, Waititu was sitting in his office calculating how he was going to burst someone’s head open with a stone. In his desk he probably had a few stones which he would throw against the wall, you know, just to keep in shape.
Now picture this, as the Governor of Nairobi, Waititu would be expected to attend high profile conferences. He would meet with all the dignitaries that visit Nairobi on official duty. Can you picture Waititu sitting opposite Queen Elizabeth? What would in the world he say to her? How would he even say it? The queen doesn’t speak Kikuyu does she?
That’s the guy that stands the chance of being my Governor? If there’s a God in heaven…
Nairobi is not Mogadishu. This is one of Africa’s financial hubs. We need an intelligent representative. We can’t leave our treasured city in the hands of a frivolous hooligan. Nairobi would never forgive us. Our children and our generation don’t deserve the retribution. No one deserves it. Even the wild animals in Nairobi National Park know they deserve better.
I am consoling myself with the fact that it’s mainly idlers who showed up and voted for Waititu during these nominations. Most of us were either working or in lecture rooms. We have no excuse come March 4th. It doesn’t matter if it’ll be raining hailstones or the sun will be shining like it’s on a mission. Even if you’re unwell, unless you’re really dying, please come out and vote. Even if you’re suffering from diarrhea please leave your house and run to the beginning of the queue and explain yourself. Of course it will be easier for you if you carry a sample.
Let’s not leave the future of Nairobi to chance. For the sake of all that’s holy let us all come out and vote on the Election Day. At least let us do one right thing on that ballot paper. Regardless of your political party affiliations, let us be reasonable when it comes to the Nairobi’s gubernatorial seat.
I believe the much better option would be Dr. Evans Kidero. He looks like a pretty decent guy. He is intelligent and has a relatively good track record. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy that would carry stones in his briefcase. Or pockets. I am sure he will have the correct response when a dignitary turns to him and says, “How do you do Sir?” He won’t mumble something inaudible while looking away. He most certainly won’t say, “Mi sina wauwau.” I swear Waititu looks like the kind guy that would look at Obama and go like, “Eh kutweng nayo.”
Guys I can’t stress this enough; the future of this great city lies in our hands. Let us take responsibility.
I was sitting at home yesterday afternoon reading a book when I thought I heard a feint knock on my front door. I walked up to the window and saw a small boy of about 2 years fiddling with the latch of the door. I ignored him and went back to the couch and picked up from where I’d left off. The little boy would however not leave my door alone. Apparently his tricycle and fancy toys were not fun enough for him. He was probably standing there wondering why his dad had never bought him a latch.
I couldn’t take it anymore. From experience, I know talking sense to kids never works. They have a habit of turning it into a game in which the madder you get the more exciting the game gets. With this in mind, I decided to give the kid a little scare. I slowly walked to the door, put my hand through that space that allows you to close the door from outside, and grabbed his tiny hand.
The outcome was a tad more dramatic than I had anticipated. As soon as I grabbed the kid’s hand he let out a cry so loud my eardrums rattled. A cry so loud I shuddered. I let go of the tiny hand instantly and took a step back. I could hear neighbors’ doors opening. You should have seen me on the other side of the door startled out of my wits.
The house help ran to the rescue. She was joined by two others. I realized that if I didn’t open the door they would know I was the culprit. I am barely a week old in this hood and the last thing I want is to be branded ‘the creepy neighbor’. I got an epiphany. I opened the door while rubbing my eyes like I had just been rudely awakened from slumber. I had this perplexed look as I asked them what was going on. They were then examining the child to see if he’d cut or broken something… like his entire arm. They explained that they had just heard the kid scream. I asked if he was okay. They said he seemed okay.
I turned to the kid looking all concerned and asked him if he was all right. The look he gave me almost made me confess my sins. It’s the same look you would have on if you met a Kenyan MP. It was a look of disgust. He didn’t utter a single word but I’m sure deep down he wished he had the strength to knock me unconscious. As the house help led him away, he once again turned to get one last look at me. Only the two of us knew what had transpired. If only I could let him know that my intention was not to scare the living crap out of him. Have scientists come up with a word for the phobia of door latches yet?
I am not even sure why I shared this story. It has nothing much to do with the rest of this blog. It could be because I wanted you guys to know that I have started reading again. You probably don’t give a damn but if you enjoy reading my stories then this is good news. Really good news.
I am on my 3rd book this week. I started with Stephen King’s “On Writing”. An awe-inspiring book that is a must read for any aspiring writer. King emphasizes on the importance of reading as a writer. He says that ‘reading is the creative center of a writer’s life’. He further states that ‘the real importance of reading is that it creates an ease and intimacy with the process of writing’.
I used to be quite the reader in Primary School. I went through as many Nancy Drews and Hardy Boys as I could get my hands on. In high school the habit (together with numerous other beneficial habits) dwindled. I picked up the habit after campus – the upside of a snobbish job market I guess. As soon as I started working and got access to high speed internet, TV took over. Right about last year when I tried out writing I had intentions of reviving the culture but then I discovered just how exciting twitter was. If I’d spent the hours I wasted reading people’s tweets actually reading books I’d probably have gotten the inspiration to work on my own. I’d probably be looking for a publisher right about now.
I am spending less time on the social media now. I am not trying to watch every tv series and movie ever produced. I am reading much more. I am also taking baby steps toward getting my writing back on. I have a new, exciting job that is less demanding. I will have much more time on my hands. I do not have an excuse. If need be, I will get a shrink to deal with my writing insecurities.
In short, Joey is back from the long hiatus. I will not promise to publish a post every other week. There are also other projects I will be working on. Plus I want to write interesting stories because I actually have something interesting to say and avoid posting mediocre stories for the sake of posting something. However on a good week I will post twice if I can. The plan is simply not to constrain myself.
In other news, the holiday’s over folks. Just like that. I am hoping y’all got the best out of it. I for one went all out. I bet that’s why January is being exceedingly mean to me with illnesses and shit. I totally owned December. I bet even the next one is scared. I thank God for the tough month of January though. Think about it, some of us would ‘get lost’ in the world were it not for this month. At the rate I see some of you partying, an extra month like December would render you retards. Like this guy I overheard asking if he could be allowed to camp on the beach. January didn’t come soon enough for him.
This is the month we also get to think long and hard about our lives. Especially when you’ve cleaned out your account and you’re home alone, unwell and KPLC is playing a sick pranks on you… Okay let me not personalize things here. I’m just saying you shouldn’t be afraid of reflecting a little. There’s always that habit that can be dropped, that one good practice that can be adopted, that job/relationship that can be chased. There is always that one thing that can be changed to better your life.
PS: It’s nice having y’all back on here.
Does the below excerpt ring any bells:
“…Fabby hails from Eldoret but the last time I spoke to him he was in Malindi. I asked him what he was doing there and he his answer; “I woke up and decided to relocate. I took a map and pikey pikey ponkied the damn thing and ended up in Malindi. Got into the bus without even packing a damn thing…””
In the post titled ‘My Special Friends’ I featured a good friend of mine called Fabian (Fabby). Fabby is the unrestrained, uncontrollable version of me. In addition, he is witty, charming, funny and quite the ladies man.
I once asked him if he could write a guest post here and he told me that he had no idea where he would begin. I found his response to be quite ironic because Fabby is the kind of guy that has opinions on anything and everything; from the causes and effects of the global financial crisis, to the perfect size of a chick’s booty.
I thought a good start would be an introduction. An attempt at demystifying the enigma that he is. Ladies, gentlemen (and sissies)….. Fabian!
I have done a lot of things, some of which have led me to different parts of the country, different corners of towns, into alleys and at times into wardrobes (nothing like R. Kelly’s closet). Some of my friends find me interesting, some find me retarded, some find me too serious but those who know me understand that I am searching. I know not what I am searching for so finding myself submitting assignments to Joeytales is not exactly a detour from my journey through life. I am not a writer, I am not a composer of sorts, I am a storyteller, not a refined one but not a crude one either.
I met Joel of the famous Joeytales (or so I hear) in campus. It was the first day of school, and despite his really dark complexion we were totally the same. People even called us the Cramp Twins, and yes I was the light skinned one with the glasses. I loved the girls. Chatting them up always gave me the thrill. When in action I felt like Captain Jack Sparrow on the Black Pearl. I was weird then. Regardless, my life was quite interesting and I tried to make everyone around me have fun. The funny thing about that day we met is that I had been talking with Joel the entire evening but only came to know his name after some random guy joined us and introduced himself forcing us to do the same.
I have no clue what we talked about that day, but I remember listening to his collection of ragga songs on one of those China players that had a VCD player, a radio, and even an internal speaker. At the time TOK was the in thing, and matatus were playing cds with funny names like Missiles by a guy named Simple Simon advertising a certain Nyanza House which supposedly held jam sessions on a Sunday. The thing about these Missiles was they had numbers and for a guy who went to high school with a name can be pronounced but not named. I was very dumbfounded.
I know I have the most complex life (I’m not trying to impress the ladies), and to help you join the group of the very few who understand me I will have to describe the who, the what, the where, the why and the how.
So here goes:
I look like Bill Gates without the money, I have been a DJ, I have a mulika mwizi that I flaunt but only because it gets people’s attention, I am the guy you least expect to hit a conversation with but after an encounter you get shocked. I am the smart guy who can’t convert the genius to good grades, the guy who can do a presentation without preparing for it, the hardworking guy who can’t stand bosses and the guy who gets laid a lot (sometimes under weird circumstances). I do not know what will happen next in my life, most of the times my life outside work shocks everyone including myself.
I have no girlfriend, but I am not single, Facebook calls it complicated but after the full story you realize that complicated doesn’t do my relationship status justice. I have only one item remaining on my bucket list which is getting laid by a South Sudanese chick, something that has evaded me for a year now. My name precedes me and my knowledge of this makes me avoid chicks who have heard my name. They think too much of me and always get disappointed.
I don’t drink, yet my favorite drink is tequila but only because of the magic it does to women (God bless the Mexican who thought of extracting juice from a blue cactus), I fit well in a boutique hotel, and even better in a road side kiosk. I am at times as open as a kindergarten’s children’s book and at times as mysterious as a dusty Atomic Physics book rotting away in a university library (we all know nowadays everyone googles). I have written amazing papers in campus, and written even shittier papers in the same institution. I am going to start my Masters degree, a factor even my own parents have found bewildering.
I love classical music and jazz, yet I can sing word for word on most Rihanna songs. I have worn blings (fake lil wayne wannabe blings), but never worn a suit and a tie (though I own three suits). I have attended one wedding only because I was forced to as it was a business thing. I have attended three funerals; two of which were in the same week and were work related. I like hanging out with people and I talk a lot about life, but I am actually a closed quiet person who would prefer to be alone reading a book.
I play the piano, I play chess, I play soccer, I play pool (billiards), I can swim but I resent it, I play table tennis (I suck at it), I play hockey, I play volleyball, I hit the gym but my body shies away from revealing this deep dark secret. I am the guy who bought an ipad just so I could get laid, and yes am also the guy whose been laid coz of an ipad. I am the guy with a deep understanding of things, who is very funny when funny, and bloody boring when boring (the British amaze me by their choice of words).
I am the guy with a collection of three hundred books you should not die without reading, a roots cd, an original Lionell Richie can’t slow down album, a packet of cigarettes with no lighter, condoms that have expired, three brands of shower gel, imperial leather soap (because my mother made us use it when we were kids), an oversize ring that I don’t wear and two pieces of furniture I made myself.
I am the guy who also has had boring evenings filled with deep empty boredom. The stories that follow will be in no order whatsoever as I have no clue where to start.
Whenever I’m visiting my parents I brace myself for two things: The first is overfeeding – I get to test the elastic limit of my stomach every time I go home. The second is dealing with that biting cold. It gets so cold there if you stay in one position for too long you risk turning to ice.
If my mom gets wind that I will be visiting, she excuses the house help and takes over the kitchen. She prepares the food herself. And she knows that I am a bit challenged when it comes to matters cooking so she makes enough for me to take home. Today I came home with so many chapatis and enough pilau to last me a couple of days. My fridge even sounds different today. It sort of grunts when I only have tomatoes in it. Today it’s humming.
My folks reside in Ngong. It gets spitefully cold in my neck of the woods. If geologists were to dig a little bit deeper, they would ascertain that Ngong is in the polar regions. You can cover yourself with three blankets and still search for a sweater. In fact, getting into bed is like stepping into a cold shower. You prep yourself mentally before getting in between those sheets. At night, the beddings are as cold as frozen chapati.
Ngong is a great place though. The air is fresh and the environment is serene. When we moved there it was not half as developed as it is today. Our nearest neighbor was like three football pitches away. I remember asking my big bro if there could be cheetahs roaming that area. I thought we’d moved to the wilderness. It would be the last time I would ever see things like roller skates again. For the first time I saw kids playing with those homemade paper balls. Some of the natives looked at us like we were E.T. But we soon got neighbors from the estates. And I could see the culture shock on the kids’ faces when they realized Ngong was no estate.
I got many neighbors that were about the same age as I was. Soon we were a clique. For the boys, as we grew older our favorite past time changed from climbing trees to chasing girls. Back then I didn’t fare too well when it came to charming the cuties. I was tiny, shy and I always seemed to say the wrong things. I didn’t know that girls like to be flattered and I would come up with all sorts of awkward lines like, “Look, you’re shoes look like mine!” or “Those matutas on your head make you look like Medusa.”
We’re all grown up now. We’re all caught up in varied livelihoods, each one of us chasing our own dreams and ambitions. We do not get to see each other as often. Some have stepped up and started families. Occupation has also proven to be a mean wedge. Our ‘base’ is no more. Base was the place the boys met up and shared stories.
At times I go for long without visiting my hood. There’s even a time I went home and the watchman refused to let me in! As I was trying to open the gate from outside an intimidating voice from the other side demanded to know who I was. I gave him my name and he was like, “Unataka nini?” I told him that I lived there and he was like how come I’ve never seen you before. I realized it was not a drill so I stepped back lest he chops my hand off as I insist on opening the gate.
At some point I gave up trying to negotiate with him and I took out my phone to call my dad and that’s when he let me in, probably fearing that I would put him in trouble. But even after opening the gate he escorted me to the door and he did not turn back until he heard my mom shouting with excitement. Luckily it was not the house help that opened the door. Any sign of hesitation would have seen the watchman drive an arrow through my temple. I wonder if it’s the same guy that was on duty when thugs attacked my folks and made away with my mom’s laptop in the middle of the night. He was probably all braggadocio because I am small and I don’t look like I can slaughter a chicken.
Anyway, I am a different person when I get into my parents’ house. I compose myself and I act like the person I was meant to be when I grew up. I do this out of reverence toward my parents. I do not leave anything to chance. I never take my calls in the living room. I excuse myself and walk to my bedroom when my phone rings. Once I picked a friend’s call while seated next to my dad and the bugger on the other side was in a noisy club shouting, “Dude hebu bring your black ass to town asap these drinks are not going to drink themselves!” Of course I acted puzzled and hung up claiming that it was a wrong number.
My dad engages me in intelligent discussions. I sure hope I come off as intelligent after all the money he spent on my fees. My mom is always marveling at her newest gadget. This weekend it was her newly acquired smartphone that runs ICS OS! Mind you she is like 55 years old. You should see how excited she was about her new acquisition. The features puzzled her and she had like a thousand questions which I patiently answered. Some I answered twice… or thrice. I wouldn’t be surprised if I go home in the future and I find her DJ-ing on the decks with Beats by Dre headphones hanging over her head.
In other matters, why is it that only two religions have celebrations that are marked internationally as holidays? Our brothers and sisters who are into Buddhism, Judaism and any other -ism out there out to campaign to have their religious festivals celebrated globally. We need more of these holidays.
Eid Mubarak to all our Muslim brothers and sisters!
My neighbor has this adorable daughter that’s delightful in so many ways. I am fond of this kid because I’ve seen her from the time she was crawling and talking in gibberish to the present when she can run as first as her little puppy and her vocabulary has grown considerably (the first time she called me ‘uncle’ I was tempted to steal her). So you can imagine how shocked I was last week when I heard her yelling, “puuuush, puuush”. Mind you this is a kid who has not even started baby class. Her midwifery skills are already better than her alphabet.
I like this child though. She represents all that is good. In her I see a lot of potential. She is like a bonfire that has just been ignited. A bonfire whose flames will burn fiercely and incessantly. This little girl is like a ship that is departing from the dock for the vast, infinite waters of the ocean. The world is hers to explore. At her tender age she still has a lot of zest and enthusiasm.
Just like this little girl, while we were toddlers we ate life with a big spoon. We did not feel the need to pretend. We cried our eyes out when things were not right and we laughed our hearts out without a care in the world whenever we were happy. But even when we cried, we would let things go as soon as our tears ran dry. We would let things slide and keep our eyes on the prize (which was mostly boobs). We never hang on to unpleasant experiences. We kept no grudges. We did not walk with downcast eyes. We did not keep hatred in our hearts. We were not ashamed of who we were. We never felt the need to please people. We were not judgmental. We were not spiteful. We did not feel the need to follow the crowd. We were always eager to learn and we had so much potential.
What happened to all that gusto?
It’s unfortunate how we let experiences shape us. We let our set- backs suck all that succulence from our lives leaving us frail and worn out. It is unfortunate how we let people define who we are or who we ought to be. It’s unfortunate how we let hatred and pain consume us. It is unfortunate how we let the world corrupt and damage us. It is unfortunate how we pursue the wrong things in pursuit of happiness. It’s unfortunate how we endeavor to please others at the cost of our own happiness. It’s unfortunate how much we complicate our lives.
No one can claim to be an expert on living. There’s no handbook on how to live this life. We are all a work in progress. But that is not to say that life cannot be simplified. It is in this regard that I share my two cents on making life manageable:
1) Your happiness should always come first. Stop trying to fix everyone and everything. This is not to say that you should never go out of your way for the sake of someone else. But the truth is, some people are just damaged. And very few among us have the patience that Jesus had (or Mother Teresa for that matter).
2) Do not hang around bitter, unhappy people. These people are always full of skepticism. Nothing is ever good enough or doable from their point of view. If you have a friend that’s always complaining and speaking negative of everyone and everything, it’s about time you ditch him/her or else that negativity will rub off on you.
3) Do not keep grudges. I long realized that more often than not, people will disappoint you. We live among humans, not angels. You will disappoint people and you will be disappointed. Learn to forgive and move on. Hate is consuming. You don’t want to look like President Ubaks (or God forbid, his wife) by the time you are in your forties.
4) Have the courage to tell someone off. If someone is constantly crossing the line and you can’t take their crap anymore, feel free to tell him/her to piss off. Do not let anyone take away your happiness. You do not owe anyone anything. Unless you are a Siamese twin, you came into this world alone. That is not to say that you should be petty
5) Know yourself well. Life is so much easier when you know your weaknesses and strengths. You will save yourself a lot of time and you are more likely to hit the jackpot. Just imagine if David ‘Fiatu Fyangu’ Rudisha had tried to be a news anchor.
6) Know whom to trust. Do not get attached too easily. Don’t go opening your heart to everyone you meet. Guard your heart. It harbors your life.
7) Learn to live with people. No man is an island. No man stands alone. As much as you may possess the ability, people will get you where you want to be.
8) If it will not add any value, don’t say it. Well of course unless it’s funny.
9) Respect others. Do not look down on people. Just because you are up there does not mean you cannot fall. Sometimes the person that lends you a hand in a time of need is the one that you least expect.
10) Take risks. Like they say YOLO. You can’t live in fear all your life. If you think something will make you happy, as long as it’s not harmful go for it. This is no license to be stupid though. Don’t go doing silly stunts.
11) You do not have to be like everyone else. You don’t have to do it because everyone else is doing it (I know Nyambura will like this one). In that regard, if you are reading this and you have that dreadful Mohwak on your head (because you saw it on Sean Paul), please visit your nearest barber.
12) Don’t take things at face value. Learn to question. Don’t believe in crappy sayings! Like the one that says that if you love something, let it go and if it comes back then it was meant to be yours. Seriously genius?
13) Have a relationship with God.
14) Lastly, have a sense of humor. You’ve got to have a sense of humor. It’s never that serious. I am sure even Samuel L. Jackson laughs in real life, no?
I feel compelled to write a post in honor of this impeccable movie, The Avengers, and the mind-boggling technology that is IMAX. The Avengers on that monstrous 3D screen is the most remarkable thing I’ve ever set my eyes on. I am grateful to the Almighty for allowing me to live long enough to see this spectacle. The angels definitely deserve a big high-five. If you haven’t watched the movie, don’t panic. There won’t be any spoilers in this post. If you have, you will get what I’m trying to say here.
I am not the biggest fan of marvels. In fact, I wouldn’t have gone to watch The Avengers if it were not for my colleagues who had gone all hysterical since seeing the trailer a few months back. For once I am glad I can be easily swayed. My high school Social Studies teacher needs to be told that peer-pressure is not such a bad thing. The experience you get in the two and a half hours spent in that cinema theatre is something out of this world.
I have been looking forward to the IMAX experience for a long time. Three years ago my pal who lives in Canada made me believe that IMAX is the best thing to have happened to the universe since bacon. I expected to be stupefied by that huge screen and the amazing 3D experience. I however didn’t expect much out of the movie The Avengers. I thought it was just another flick where hero beats the crap out of villain and saves the day – Nothing I haven’t see in Power Puff girls. But *insert favorable curse* that movie is out of this world, and IMAX technology takes the movie to another level!
As soon as we took our sits in the theatre and the screen opened, we all put on the huge glasses. The first trailer was on 2D and I remember my pal going like, “Umph I don’t see any difference.” Then right after the trailer, there’s a message on the screen that reads, “You may now put on your glasses.” I quickly took off mine then took put them back on slowly. They just had to make us feel dumb, didn’t they? But I forgive them.
That’s when it all begins. The first trailer is for the movie Spiderman. He jumps off the roof of a sky scraper and we go down with him. I think I heard Jacque say The Grace. The size of the screen and the way it portrays depth does make you feels like you are falling down. At this point Joram went like, “F*cking hell!”
I didn’t expect the IMAX screen to have much difference from the normal 3D screen. I only thought the difference would be in the size of the screen. But the most amazing thing about IMAX is that people in the movie seem like they are just right there before you. You feel like you can reach over and smack the smug off Loki’s (the villain’s) face. You are right there with these folks. Thanks to IMAX I got an eyeful of Scarlett Johanssson – from her beautiful face to her shapely behind.
The storyline is fantastic and the acting, sublime. Each role was acted out perfectly. Special tribute goes to Robert Downey Jr., Mark Fuffalo (The Hulk), Scarlett Johansson, Tome Hiddleston (Loki) and Samuel L. Jackson. These guys were phenomenal.
It’s not every day you come across a movie that is so action packed and extremely humorous at the same time. The conceited and sarcastic nature of Stark (Robert Downey) and some clever lines spread throughout the movie will make you laugh so hard popcorn will end up in your nose. I am yet to find the will to watch another movie after the IMAX experience. I’m afraid I might start crying.
I hereby wish the writers, producers, directors, cast and anyone else involved in the success of The Avengers, not forgetting all the brilliant minds behind IMAX technology, a long and happy life so that they come up with more dazzling stuff.
It is every blogger’s wish that whatever he/she writes turns out to be the best thing to have happened to humanity since Kentucky Fried Chicken. We hope that our work would be shared all over the globe and readers would fall in love with it. However, that is not always the case. Most people just don’t give a hoot. As far as they are concerned, so long as it does not put bread on their tables, the writer and his article can as well go conserve the environment. So you can imagine my amazement last Monday when I checked the stats for the day’s post and it had quite a significant number of views. By 5pm the post had more views than the average views I get in a whole week.
WordPress has this new feature that allows you to see which countries your viewers are from and the post had viewers from as far as Iceland and Russia! As in despite that biting cold, somewhere in Russia was a dude/chick just chilling with a glass of vodka reading joeytales? (you know how folks like their drink chilled so they have it on the rocks? In Russia and Iceland it’s the opposite. The bartender puts your drink in the microwave to defrost before serving you). Anyway, cheers my freezing readers.
Problem now is that I have to try and keep up the quality that got the blog so many views. It would not be fair for Mr. Vladimir to wipe the ice off his laptop and go to joeytales then find a crappy post. Now the pressure is on. You’ve already noticed that this week’s article is unusually short. Trust me, it’s not because I figured I better summarize it before and Icelander turns into an iceberg; the truth is that everything I’ve tried putting down ended up sounding so boring you would have more fun reading the laws of physics.
Folks, I just couldn’t come up with anything interesting this week. My mind simply refused to function. Not even coffee or redbull could jump-start it. As I write this it’s 10pm on Sunday and I am frustrated. I have tried three different ideas but I’ve had to drop them halfway through after I started dozing off. Only a man suffering from ED would understand the predicament I’m in. I feel like going all psycho on this laptop. But the laptop is innocent; it’s my mind that has failed me. I wonder if that’s how it feels being senile. You know, the way in the movies old folks just chill on the balcony staring into space. You would push his wheelchair into a club and he would still maintain that blank stare. That’s how I feel right now.
I could use a guest post. If you can come up with an interesting article that you would like to share, send it to me on the address firstname.lastname@example.org. If I like it I will publish it. Do not worry, I will not pass it as my own and claim that I suddenly got an epiphany. I will give you the credit.