Some Stories i Know !

I hate my name with a passion because in its abbreviated form it sounds like a djs name. Speaking of Djs,they are those guys that decide the kind of tune that will entertain us when we go to the places of money wasting in the name of having fun and relaxing,some people call it giving the body appreciation for the hard toil.Now coming back to djs,i don't like them for the simple reason that they feel too important to us,they have attitude,most of them hardly take a shower and the list is endless including of course the indisputable fact that they think every woman should notice or fall for them! This are the Kenyan Djs for you. I guess that explains why i cringe when someone calls me Deno because most Djs whom i grew up knowing went by that name. Why would anyone want to be associated with a Dj anyway,not that its a bad profession but the players have given it a bad name.

I wasn't going to talk about the Djs anyway,but just that they bore me to bits.Now this is the part i hate most about this blog,the part where i have to explain why i haven't been posting often as i should,its bad because i have to give excuses that normally end up being the same old song and i guess at that point no one is willing to take me seriously.Like i have said elsewhere before, agony is when people don't take you or what you say seriously at all.Like now when a woman or say even a girl tells me her hobbies are swimming,travelling,listening to music and dancing,even when she is is out rightly looking like a pumpkin straight out of the garden she still claims she can dance, and its her Hobie,Jesus,are we supposed to take such ladies seriously? Every other girl in town has the same set of hobbies and am wondering how wrong could God have possibly gotten it! Anyway that's a story for another day but am trying to say its good when people take you seriously,put differently,its good to stand by your word or promise,so to that end i won't give any excuse for not having have posted for slightly over a month.But for those closer to me,they know why i can't post often but am looking forward to turnaround this blog and get back its once vibrant readers and who knows i could be headed to doing a humour column in one of the dailies around if things go my way.

My closet is normally full of stories for this blog which may soon see the light of day.What i normally do is draft a manuscript and slate it for posting subject to availability of time,funds and convenience of the story at a given time.That's why i have ended up having so many stories that are drafted but which have never seen the inside of this blog,but am soon getting them out of the closet and those that are appropriate will get here,as i might actually have the time and the right logistics to post thanks to M/s so and so. One of the stories i have in the closet is that of beauty of the detail or the devil being in the detail.

In this story i was explaining how a certain distant friend of mine got a rude shock when he came across some detail.Let me indulge you. Maxwell was a beer mate at some pub in outter Nairobi.I call him a distant buddy because he was a friend to a friend even though we attended the same college.I dint like him and even never wanted to keep his company coz he was a loud mouth and he had no particular respect for order in the social places.He would go plastering himself to other peoples tables uninvited and could even embarrass your guests with even taking notice of their displeasure at his unwelcome conduct.For some reason, most ladies seem to like such guys,not that am complaining but i mean,one ought to have a courteous approach to guests who are not known to you and so and forth,remember next time you might be a guest and i am sure you wouldn't want anybody losing respect for you. Anyway, so Maxwell had this fly chic in college,the chic used to drive a Volkswagen polo to college and she was really a nice person albeit naive and she fell short of openly showing she had something more of a culture shock. I can tell you from a very knowledgeable point that driving a polo those days was indeed a good and prestigious thing because Volkswagen is a very good car if you ask me.

Volkswagen aside, the chics name was Mercy and she came from a well to do family as you may have seen and Maxwell too was not badly off but i guess the two of them were happy together. I on the other hand always liked keeping the company of a one George M who was a very good buddy and we could burn the whole weekend together drinking busy gossipping about the campus chics and we liked keeping very limited company outside the two of us coz we were like straight out of the village into the city life.Maxwell didn't have a fair opinion of us and he sort of despised us coz we dint appear to him as any important but we only kept his company at times coz when he felt like bragging,he could buy us booze which was our problem then and normally we knew we could be dropped off at our places of residence well past midnight without having to pay a penny and for that we could chide him as the chauffeur.

Turns out one day when he was bragging to us i had taken one too many and i gathered courage to face him and actually i managed to give him my two cents of what i thought of him.Normally am the kind of person that sits somewhere and watch people make sense or rubbish of themselves as i analyse them.I normally wouldn't wish to take part in a stupid discussion and or with people that come across to me as stupid.I had watched Maxwell for far too long given the fact that we had been drinking together for quite sometime.He was bragging coz of this chic and so this day i told him that,were it not that Mercy was somewhat naive and childish,he wouldn't be having her as his girlfriend,otherwise it was my humble opinion that sooner or later he would lose Mercy for good and the next guy that will have Mercy will be the guy he least expects.His reaction was what anybody can imagine.In fact he got so upset with me but since i was high it din't matter coz my point was home and dry.I will cut a long story short and that's the beauty of being the story teller.

Days went by and my prophecy came to be.Maxwell learnt the lesson ina very hard and bitter way and it was even bitter coz i the prophet was the one to deliver the sad news.For those of you who don't know me well except for this blog,i love to read.In fact some people think i know too much,which is not a bad thing altogether so long as you use what you know to be streetwise and or to make you a better person.Actually all i know is not from official news or information channels,coz the after all the papers are always wrong but wait they are never wrong on adverts or everything for that matter.Like i said before i love to read even the most minute details! So this one Saturday as is my usual habit,when i have the money and feel like relaxing alone in the house and to myself,i normally like buy all the dailies and some Juice,wine or some alcohol just to keep me going.Its good watching movies is not a hobby even though i have listed it as a Hobie just for conformity just like the ladies. So i lock myself up and sift through the dailies to see what i don't know.Then came a shocker.I couldn't believe reading on the Lonely hearts column, Mercy's name and worse still she wanted some who was as hopeless as i was for a boyfriend.Not that she described me,but the kind of person she wanted or she was looking for befitted my profile.I had to be sure it was her and that it was not a case of mistaken identity so i actually took the number and called and confirmed it was the same number of her that i had in the phone just in case.Of course i hid my number and called her and she actually confirmed she was the one and we setup a meeting which as you could imagine i dint show up as it could be stupid to do so.So i very quickly forgot about my solitude and summoned George so we could meet at our usual joint to break the news.He too was in disbelief but we had to break the news and somebody had to do it and that somebody was us.We called Maxwell and we broke the news, and what happened thereafter is a story for another day.But he was disturbed,upset as i laughed the more and more at him.I dint care,coz it was his pride i wanted hurt most!

To cut a long story short,Maxwell lost the chic to somebody that he felt was a loser and i had the last laugh to say the least.It might sound i was happy about his loss but wait,i wasn't keen to see that he lost her,but i was keen to see if he paid attention to little detail.Maxwell's story was retold a couple of weeks ago when another man i know of also lost a woman in a similar fashion and i believe this are the cases that i only know of out of sheer coincidence,there should be many more out there.But that's not really important today,what is,is why would a woman seemingly happy resort to look for love or companionship through the press? Finally what better humiliation is there to a man than this one? Anyway,this is one of the stories i know!