“Girl I met a new man. Imagine he reads books! Awesome right?”
I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard this line. A girlfriend excitedly calling me because she’s found a man who is actually literate. Like he’s read Game of Thrones and they’re talking about it now and speculating on what they’re going to do in season 5. This girl’s panties are dripping wet because she’s found a dildo with eyes. Oh my goodness I have been this person.
Let me tell you something ladies, we need to stop this shit right now.
It is great when you do find a man who reads. There are millions of articles about this, poetry even. Some of them are just so obviously written by some white woman in an obscure part of America who has blown up pictures from the Humans of New York Africa tour and stuck them on her wall “to remind her every day that she is so blessed.” Unless there’s some line about how “the first glimpse he caught of you was your Afya Centre-green thong as you bent to pick a book” I’m not sure we’re the target audience. But you know its cute, right? Its an amazing thing to be able to discuss literature and writing styles with someone you’re really into, or even to walk into his room and find a bookshelf instead of a giant bottle of whisky that him and 8 of his friends share custody of.
However I’m telling you this is no longer an effective method of picking a mate. It may have been back then but now these men know. You google “why you should date a man who reads” and 1.3 billion results pop up. OF COURSE THEY ARE ONTO US. And I don’t know what’s more disappointing, how slick they think they are now that they know or how effective they are at convincing women that they are slick.
As an avid reader I am THRILLED that on almost every street corner there’s a book vendor these days. But as I have been taught on several occasions, men don’t like it when women have nice things. (No? Go ahead and a post a picture of any hot man on your social networks and just wait for every Mark from Masaku to hop into your mentions with a bottle of water like you asked for it. Who the fuck told you I needed your seal of approval on what I should lust over? Please, son be gone.)
But I digress. So you’ve gone on your Tumblr and told your feminist friends how there’s nothing more you’d love than to stay indoors and have coffee with your boo as you talk about the themes in Paulo Coelho’s books (spoiler alert: the main theme in all of them is sleep and how fast you can achieve it) and Pinterested stealth shots of men reading books or browsing in book stores. I get all that, I do it too. But these men have eyes. They will hate on those books as much as they want but there are a lot of hot women just squatting and kneeling around in the CBD just looking for books. To be honest it gets a little bit obscene at times, just wiggly jiggly bits in the air! Its enough to get anyone confused.
So Mark from Masaku is back on duty, patrolling the streets for women to
just say hi to what’s the big deal why you gotta be such a bitch you just smile back you’re much prettier when you smile harass and there you are with your face down and your ass up. Of course you do not notice this predator in your midst because you’re just looking for a good book to read. But somehow you look up and there’s this guy holding the last book you touched. Then he asks you if its any good and because all the men you have encountered were scraped from the bottom of the barrel, Mark is now Marcello, distinguished gentleman and book connoisseur. You mean all he has to do is pick up a book? And you? What have you done? You’ve spent hours in the mirror plucking and pulling at your features because of this or that standard of beauty while all he did was buy a copy of the Stephen King novel you read in primary school? Then when you’re together you have to dumb yourself down to discuss his dull opinions on it?! No, madam. NO.
Bitch so what if he reads? WHAT is he reading? Not all books are good or worth your time. “But he reads manga though” might cut it with some of you and it could be the feminism talking but most of them are really just misogynistic garbage so I don’t count it as literature. That could be just me.
The fact that there is a guy in a bookshop should not be treated like its some Nat Geo event that must be documented for all of womankind to see. He has not come from outer space. He is just LITERATE. I understand that literacy is a privilege that I get to enjoy and maybe some of my opinions might not be all-inclusive to those who are dyslexic or any other reading disorders which I apologize for. However that’s like 17-20% of the population, meaning roughly 3 out of every 5 of you bastards have no excuse. Do not put that man on a pedestal unless he is one of those people who struggle every day with their disorders, and even then do not make him a god. Why are you settling? You have the power to bring nations to their knees but instead you’re texting your girls ALL DAY about a man who took 3 and a half weeks to read a 230 page book? Shut up.
I need a drink.
I was told, “drinking buddies are not your friends. Get rid of them.”
Its true, they aren’t, I did.
But now, I have no one to drink with.
Yeah sure, I have friends, and they drink, but their drinking sucks.
after work drinks,
drinks with a client,
a stupid SINGLE glass of wine before bed,
I have work in the morning excuses,
drinking in my local because alcoblow excuses,
I have church tomorrow excuses,
Its all about me excuses,
why can’t you come to where I’m at excuses,
you’re drinking with my ex excuses,
I aint about that life excuses,
fuck you and your excuses.
(Drinking buddies had no excuses. 😦 )
Drinking alone is a writer’s thing. The good and evil spirits that reside in your creative mind get drunk and have an orgy in your brain.
Yeah, I don’t like that.
Drinking alone is sad, something pop culture dictates is done as you contemplate suicide.
Drinking alone leads to lonely hangovers.
Hangovers are accompanied with so much self loathing, and now you decided to partake by yourself?
There is no warmth to be gained from crowd mentality of poor decisions made as a group, this pain and suffering is yours alone, just like every other burden.
When you wake up in the morning, that bottle is still there. Call someone for the love of God.
I drink with guys. Every woman who does this gets called names for having common sense.
Men don’t cry and sit on disgusting bathroom floors when overcome by emotion.
There are no queues in the men’s bathroom.
As long as you don’t throw up in their car, its okay, because what goes down, must surely come up. Or something like that.
The drunker they get, the nicer they become.
This is not the same for women.
Actually its not fun drinking with women. Well, that’s harsh, it can be fun.
Disaster starts with a tingle in the cooch, and then everyone has their own agenda.
Alcohol restores the natural order of things. We are all lions and lionesses. The lionesses hunt and murder one another, armed with their militarised jackets and weaponized heels, and the lion waits in a drunken stupor for the survivor to bring forth the spoils of war, shows gratitude in an unsatisfactory 2 minute romp and farts himself to sleep.
Also, they leave me with the handbags. The ugly girl is always left with the handbags. I cannot stand this constant insult.
Not like drinking with men is all roses.
There are the occasional futile attempts at escaping the friend zone, which maybe when feeling completely worthless and sexually unappealing, might work. Just as long as he doesn’t make it weird. Because it’s definitely him who will make it weird.
Then there’s the one you want to/have already/are planning on sleeping with. You can drink with 2 other people there but when its the two of you you are confused on whether to flee like a rabbit or lock the door and lick his skin. Don’t lie. We all know. (He’s the reason you’ll get called names. BURRIZZOKAY! )
There are the bitter words of those who have been banished to the zone of no return. They chastise you on your poor taste in men yet they themselves are as problematic in relationships as you are, hence the reason you’re at the bar together.
Mbio za sakafuni huisha bro-zone.
White TV told us women can go to bars and drink alone. Another stereotype perpetuated by the white man.
Why are you alone? I came alone.
You shouldn’t drink alone. I’m not any more.
Tell me about yourself? Why?
I’m just trying to make conversation. I don’t want conversation.
You’re a bitch, and you will die alone. Probably.
So what’ll you have? Beer. Women don’t drink beer.
Why don’t you drink something more ladylike? Smirnoff Ice is for hookers. (It is though.)
Vodka. Vodka is for teenagers.
Gin. You want to smell like wood varnish?
Whiskey. Hello there, big baller!
Everyone gets off from telling everyone they have a drinking problem, and everyone is probably right. Drink anyway.
Dear Auntie Liv,
I have been dating this guy for the last 7 months, and I have a serious problem with his weed habits. He doesn’t want to go anywhere, he just sits in the house smoking up and watching videos on YouTube. Every time I want to go somewhere, he’s always refusing and just wants to stay indoors an eat my food. I’m fucking frustrated. What can I do to make him stop?
Disappointed in Donholm.
That was not a typo. You’re a disappointing intolerant good for nothing, who deserves nothing more than heartbreak and chlamydia. But you know what the best thing is about your life is that you won’t get either. You have what every man who’s watched one romantic comedy in his life thinks is the perfect example of a good spouse. Which is EVERY SINGLE MAN OUT THERE.
According to this lacklustre lover of yours, he is doing everything that you sad Tumblr owning girls want. He doesn’t stray, you can keep tabs on him 24/7 and he actually will eat your cooking, which is only nice because someone told you how to use coconut cream in everything. For him the fact that its just not Bites and tepid tap water is enough for him to stay with your nagging ass, and probably the other reason he’s still there is because the weed has mellowed him out to the point that everything you have said since “are you hungry?” is white noise.
Would you really like him to stop smoking up? Are you sure? Now he’ll have an opinion on your stories, your makeup, how your eyebrows aren’t done, how you really need to use stronger deo, now that the thick cloud of smoke has been lifted and he can see (and smell) you in your not-so-impressive glory. Then he’ll start looking at Mingle pictures and actually be awake and active when the call for “I got free tickets!” comes through. And then, what next? You have no idea where he is and what he’s doing! Now what? You dumb bitch.
Eventually if he changes you WILL write to me again, and start telling me how he’s moody, angry, irritable and not the man you knew… And my only advice is to give you a dealers number. And besides, it’s not like you didn’t know that he likes weed. You did, and you should learn from your mistakes. Next time go look for a man who lives in Runda. Because if you’re stupid enough to think you can change a man into something he does want to be, then you’re probably the type of girl who thinks that large distances between the house and the main road equate to class. Assess yourself.
3 years ago, I got my ex-girlfriend pregnant and we decided to keep the baby. But you know how these things go, eventually I realised this was just a trap and that she had ulterior motives, and we eventually broke up. I met this awesome girl and I really do love her and I want to be with her, but she has her reservations about my kid. I love her deeply and think she’s the right one for me. But I also have to provide for my ex and my son. Can you help me?
Confused in Coast.
I have no fucking idea where to start. Sir, you obviously have never watched any black movie, so I’m going to explain to you what happens. Dumb boy(thats you) meets dumb girl. Dumb boy taps dumb girl. Dumb girl gets pregnant because of any variety of reasons; maybe because she liked your flashy ways at Ratchet City (Crooked Q’s) and big house and doesn’t realise that the only reason you choose to be flashy in such an (ahem) establishment is that your parents are very well aware that their son is a loser and will give him an adequate amount of money not out of love, but because they can’t bear to have their family name embarrassed any further. But well, poor mom and dad because that’s exactly what you did, didn’t you? You got a girl from the wrong tribe (yes, that’s what your dad said) with one too many tattoos and/or piercings and a penchant for self expression through low cut tops(????)
Well, you may have learnt your lesson, because your new love interest seems to be extremely intelligent, seeing that she can smell the disaster off you. yes, son, you are going to lead her down a path of destruction. Just like you and your tequila rose shots did to your last ratchet mistake, so please, just leave it at that ONE ratchet mistake. If you really love this girl, you leave her alone. Delete her number. Avoid her when you see her in the street. For even added safety, MOVE. If you love this flower of yours, you’ll keep her far away from your poison, be it the lack of time you’ll have for her, the bitterness shell harbour when you’ll drop everything at a moments notice to run to your son (but she can’t complain because she doesn’t want to be that person keeping him away from his family) Eventually your whole life will begin to play out like a Tyler Perry movie, and we all know how bad those things are. Most of the time the plot ends with someone dying, getting really unwell to the point of paralysis and/or incarceration. Either that or, you’re going to pit those two women against one another, and ratchet begets ratchet, so you’re going to end up turning a good girl into a ratchet. And because you won’t take responsibility for your actions, you’ll end up being an angry Kenyan man who thinks all women are stupid, end up posting stupid misogynistic bullshit like this and end up with a thousand followers because you just understand women don’t you, you piece of shit. Stay in the house, take care of your kids, keep the fuck away from Qs.
Son, don’t do it. The baby mama always wins.
What advice would you give a gay guy who wants to get back with his man?
Sleepless in Sankara.
I…. This is not my area of expertise. I don’t know anything about the gay community apart from what I learnt about them on… Community, but I think your query explains the sudden rise of women hating blogs and male selfies on Instagram.
Actually, just watch Community. Whatever Troy does, mimic it.
I like wearing women’s underwear. What are the good stores that have lingerie in man’s sizes?
Shy in South C.
I can give you my exes number he can tell you where he buys her things. Otherwise I’m also looking for heels that will fit my man feet so when you’re going you call me :*
I know this is kind of stupid but how exactly do you show up an ex? His new girl isn’t shit, he keeps giving me attitude, I just need him to see that I am better!
Livid in LA.
Evidently you didn’t want that cliche, “you don’t need another mans validation to feel your worth, you just need self validation!” bullshit or else you wouldn’t have written to me. Well. You made the right choice. I understand you completely.
So. *clears throat* there are a series of steps you can take.
1. Get a friend who works for Heineken. They get freebies. If they don’t, they’re lying. Get them. People will think you’re cool.
2. Go to a friends house, preferably when the folks aren’t home. Take photos of their liquor. Post them on Instagram and front like they’re a gift from “your clients”. Keep a constant archive of these photos and post them randomly in the middle of the month, especially after everyone on your feed is posting water with ice cubes and calling it lunch.
3. Curve someone online. If someone responds to your tweet with either this…
You might have won the Internet.
4. Replace him with his opposite. If he’s a darkie get the lightest, fair haired, brown eyed light skin motherfucker you can find. If he’s light skin, curve him with Uncle Ruckus. (You get bonus points for Muthunguz)
Start a blog, undergo serious flak from haters at the start enough to make you want to quit, persevere through memes and negative reviews and then 3 years later get a job opportunity and insert the phrase “paid blogger” into every sentence you can.
I have been having a thing with this guy for 5 months. It started off as FWB but I may have started catching feelings. It has been going on long enough for there not to be a future. We haven’t discussed anything but I have a good feeling about this. What should I do?
Ditzy Daisy from Loresho
No boo boo, no. There you have lied to yourself. You cannot still claim to be Friends With Benefits if it has lasted more than 3 months. An FWB is a person who you explore your sexual deviancy with, and discover whether you’re into autoerotic asphyxiation, violent porn and all that stuff that Aggrey talks about. Once this person has seen you with a ball gag in your mouth there is no way you are being promoted upwards to Mrs S&M, and that should be fine with you, because, like you said, it was just meant to be a thing. The 3 month span is ample time for you to fuck out all the misery that whoever it is that hurt you put you through. And the fact that you think that being banged you 3 times a week and a toothbrush in your bathroom is evidence of a future with this man, means that there are a couple hundred million issues you need to address with your ex. Tafadhali, mpigie tu.
I’m in a long distance relat….
That one I won’t touch even with a 1000 ft pole. You are by yourself. LITERALLY.
I’ve been dating my boyfriend for the last year and a half, and it’s been pretty smooth sailing all the way. I just have this huge problem with this female friend of his. She’s always calling him for parties and stuff like that, and every time they go out they get so drunk and have lots of fun. I know he used to like her so their friendship makes me so angry, but he says that she’s just his friend. Is he lying? Jealous Janice from Westy
You ever hear men saying that “women are their own worst enemies”? They are talking about you. You need to relax. You’re his girlfriend. You’re the one who his mum has met and cooked cookies with. You can’t also be the one his dad will accidentally hit on when he’s chomokad the house and gone to drink with young drunk university students. And is the fact that she’s single bothering you? It is isn’t it. I can console you by saying that she’s probably a heavy drinker and has a lot of issues (testify!) and is probably seeking the approval of some asshole that doesn’t even funga his eyes when they kiss, so don’t worry. And even you as a girl you know once you friendzone a nigga not even Moses’ staff can part those legs. She has friend zoned him. You might as well be nice to her, because the minute she disapproves of your cookie baking ass she has the power to destroy you as he laments drunkenly over your stupid jealous behaviours. You’re just temporary, but the bar will always be there. So get over it.
Should I surprise my gf with a tattoo of her name on her birthday?
Romantic Romeo from Ruiru
Yes. Go ahead and show her this amazing display of weakness and watch her run into the arms of your big dicked best friend. HOW DOES SUCH A STUPID PERSON EVEN KNOW OF ME OMG JESUS STRIKE DOWN THIS CHILD
I have had a crush on this guy for the longest time and I have no idea how to let him know. I obsess daily and I constantly wonder what I’m going to say or do around him and end up embarrassing myself. Please help,
Lovestruck Lucy from Lavi
I swear babe, here I can’t help. We’re in the same boat. But if you get the answer to this, halla at your girl.
Hey guys 🙂
So, you guys know Adam Kiboi right? Anarchist, blogger at DNFTB and he operates his own blog which you can check out here (TTYL), blah blah… so theres a post he recently wrote, and by recently I mean at 6 AM. I was aware that certain parts would involve my name but I didn’t know it would be THIS bad. So this is my response.
Now, don’t get me wrong, this is not a denial of any sort, its more of a clarification. By the time you finish reading this I will have ended up looking like a serious bitch, and him just a victim of my meanness, but this is nothing like that. This back and forth has gone on since 2009, since we first met and he lied to me that he was South African and I was the only woman for him. 5 years later, he is not South African (so unfair Adam you know I love South African men) and these conversations now take place. All of the following is true.
MaddAddam (pick up a book some time…Jeez…haven’t you heard of Margaret Atwood???): What’s a mbroggas?
Big Breasted Blogger (me, and I love this nickname, against my better judgement): Bloggers
MA: hahaha ok, actually up working on a post inspired by yours. But had put up three earlier though
BBB: Yeah I read them. Jesus Christ, man, visit a brothel
MA: Ouch you know it’s not that bad, I’m just feeling so chill right now. I just need casual sex to confuse me ONCE AGAIN? Naah.
BBB: Hahahahahahahahahha(it went on for a reaaaally long while). That is so sad, i’ll just leave it alone.
*thinks a while*
Loser. LOL (just in case he got mad)
MA: Shaaaame. Why’re you awake?
BBB: *was thinking of insults till the text checked in. The bile was already bubbling, hadn’t slept in 21 hours, and I just needed to bully someone, since there’s really no-one to bother on-line at night any more. I decide to let it out)
Actually, no. You’re my friend so I’ll say it. Also, coz I’m a prick 😀 (own it!)You’ve gone soft. Like, you know apples that are soft are really disgusting but still edible? Yeah, not like that. Like, black patch on a banana soft. Did you seriously go on line and bitch about being cheated on like some prepubescent girl on Tumblr? What’s next? Will you start quoting Marilyn Munroe? Get over yourself.You are a mess hehe ( remember, it always softens an insult)
MA: Actually no that post was more of a whine for pity sex (revealing trade secrets, sorry -but honestly it wasnt going to work) and a defensive tactic if I ever want to get laid in Nai lol and I thought Tumblr was just for tacky pictures.
BBB: Its for little girls like you. No one wants to fuck little girls. Not even Catholic priests.
MA: Oh. Meh. (He did this on purpose. That was such a chemical burn and we ALL KNOW THIS but that “Oh. Meh.” just killed all my psyche for insulting him further. Guy didnt even flinch or call me a bitch. Oh Meh, like I told him paper towels are actually different from serviettes. NKT)
The rest of the conversation is actually pretty awesome, but we talked about a lot of our readers and since we are all trying to get laid I’ll just leave the rest out.
Well, yeah, its not like you aren’t.
So 2013 is here! So far, so awesome. For me. Maybe just because its a year to start over. New book new page and all that cliche nonsense we say every beginning of the year like some retarded parrot. So you probably think that you’re done with all the toxins of last year, you think you’ve left them there. And you know what, you have. You have left them there to fester and probably leak in to 2013 like bad things people and decisions always seem to do. Don’t you realize that? Of course you don’t, that’s why every new years you’re filled with blind hope and optimism. While those totally cynical pessimists like myself have raised a serious eyebrow at the goodness of this year. WHY? The world is horrible to me. But for now. WHOOPEEE!!!! Starting to make money, finally got enough shit together to actually trick someone into getting into a relationship with me later on in the year and my relationship with my family still sucks, but its been better than its ever been since 2008. Also hanging out with an atheist kind of actually puts a lot into perspective. I need Jesus.
But wait. Its being good to me. That means its being horrible to others right? Yes. It is. We are in some weird twilight zone where all those Praise The Lord Jesus-es (yes thats what I call you) are actually wallowing in anguish. People are all of a sudden sad. HAHA YES! I’m sorry but its normally really weird for me to be on the other side of this so I will LMAO. (said out loud)
So, you had an awesome December, posting shit all over Instagram and making some of us without smartphones or a single photogenic gene in our DNA feel like gum stuck under social medias ankle bootie. You had time to spend all your hard earned money on expensive whiskies and out of town trips, because hey, your clothing line/acting or modelling career took off in 2012 and its time the world knew just how loud youre YAAAY GOOD FOR ME is.And its all good for you. ITS December. Drinkcember. Drinksembar. Or whatever mess you people think is cool to call it now. The streets are littered with summer bunnies who have eaten GMO’s that make their skin glow and they smell of expensive perfume and money. The neighbour’s kid you never took seriously has grown up to be amazingly handsome. Like gay porn handsome. Your sibling’s friend who you crushed on can finally see your light. The commitment-phobics are inspired by the coziness of family and contemplate relationship. The ex is back in town and you have new clothes and a new look, he cant help but fall in love with you again! ITS ALL GOING GREAT!!!!
Then New Years Eve came around. Those who were still thankful for all of 2012’s great blessings were already ready with their new years eve kiss. The rest of those who were semi single throughout the year still managed to get through the NYE with a suitable semi intoxicated chips with a car and a promise of “I’ll drop you home tomorrow baby just stay. Here, have a sip of Jameson. Baas.”
That was 2012.
2013!!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! And its a Tuesday. The whole world went HAM on a Monday. So first of all you spend the next few days trying to figure out the exact date. That Tuesday (are you sure it’s not Sunday?) as you check your wallet and are so elated to find 200 bob just so that you can buy that Redbull but oh shit its 210 and Musyoka isn’t cutting you slack for shit. But no matter. Youre still mangied i.e. still drunk (maji) + the weird oncoming hangover (hangie). So you upload your Facebook photos and lol with those who were with you and are still going through the mangie with you.Then pass out on the couch, but not before you exhaustedly update “HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hope 2013 will bring the same joys 2012 had. Mwaaaah!”
Then you wake up.
This will start happening, in no particular order:
- You realize you were too busy drinking and partying outside and notice that you only have an onion, dhana jeera (which you have no idea how to use) and some mouldy looking flour (WTF flour goes bad??? -yes, yes motherfucker it does) Ketchup packets, salt from KFC, napkins — you’ve taken advantage of everything given for free at fast food joints and don’t intend on paying for condiments ever again.
- You made a couple of rich friends when you were rich, but you actually aren’t. You’re a broke motherfucker with no idea how to spend your money but you see they do, and expect the fun to continue till they die of alcohol poisoning or run out of money, in their case the latter probably happening in 2017. This is the perfect time to lose these friends. These people will start to boo you and start saying that you’re not as spontaneous as you were and thus delete your number, but in actuality you’re simply unable to fund any type of adventure that you didn’t have adequate time to prepare for financially.And by prepare, I mean take an M-Shwari loan but you already did that, and Safaricom is about to start calling. And even if you slightly can afford it, you craftily schedule dinners and outings with friends to take place during happy hours. Broke ass.
- Paying for shit with handfuls of loose change and arguing with Musyoka to reduce the price of the sukuma that was 10 bob last week “na hata ona, ni chafu.”
And a shitload of other things. Oh but dont wait, youre also single. You as you partied senselessly, you were always too hungover or “im sorry babe i’m in Embu I know sorry so random ILY byeeee” then mybe a drunk dial at 2 am with girls giggling in the background and you lie and say “lemme just call you back.” This significant other has spent her nights either waiting for you to call back or online reading online articles that convince her that she deserves better. And just like that, you were thrown into a bag of 2012, and that guy that you never worried about because “ah, si shes friendzoned him” has gone straight ino the pile of 2013. Youre done for, Then you start hearing “everything happens for a reason” a lot more than anyone wants to hear this, which is never. (No one wants to hear this. EVER!!!!! What is the reason for Kim Kardashian’s existence? None!!!!) You start to notice that every song on the radio is talking about love, and also realise that the worlds most popular whore has found a rich man is pregnant and is going to reproduce before you even have a pregnancy scare. You end up sleeping alone, when everyone is loving each other, and you cant even afford comfort food, because, broke.
HAHA!!!! I laugh at your pain. But dont worry, I have at least 5 solutions. You’ll be fine. Just come lie on Olivia’s bosom as she tells you just how you can fix 2013.
KILL YOURSELF! I am not going to help you, remain miserable. That’s the only way 2013 seems to be working out for me. HA!
Ladies and gentlemen i have found the answer to all your academic problems. Ever get so fed up of school and exams and cats and assignments and bullshit till you decide to quit? I did! and of course with such decisions come horrible consequences and economic sanctions…. not for me! Why you ask? I have a solid statistic filled explanation as to why its 100% okay for you to fail exams.
Yes. You read right. SOLID, waterproof, no holes to poke… just pure science and math. now sit down and pay attention… it may be your last time 😀
Its NOT the fault of the student if he/she fails an exam, because the year has an ONLY 365 days.(YOU HEAR!!!)
The typical academic year for a student
1. Sundays- 52,Sundays in a year, which are rest days. Balance: 313 days.
2. Summer holidays (ya Wazungu, all those abroad, and all those who when the said summer bunnies come through party like they are going back together) -50 where weather is very hot and difficult to study. Balance: 263 days.
3. 8 hours daily sleep means 122 days. Balance: 141 days.
4. 1 hour for daily playing-(good for health, which is crap for most Kenyans, but were looking for excuses over here…FOCUS) means 15 days. Balance: 126 days.
5. Two hours daily for food & other delicacies (chew properly & eat, light properly and smoke) means 30 days. Balance :96 days.
6. 1 hour for talking (man is a social animal) means 15 days . Balance: 81 days.
7. Exam days per year at least 35 days. Balance 46 days.
8. Quarterly, Half yearly and festival holidays (Easter and other public holidays) 40 days. Balance: 6 days.
9. For sickness at least 3 days. Balance: 3 days.
10. Movies and functions( or periods of time spent nursing hangovers) at least 2 days. Balance: 1 day.
11. That 1 day? YOUR BIRTHDAY.