24 November 2017

Uber Tales: The Mend-Your-Deviant-Ways One

Still in Uber adventures: When I came back from the village hooligans yesterday evening, I made a stupid mistake. It's a beginner's mistake, and I really should know better, but I keep making it because I don't like to lie.

So we're driving towards town, and chat a bit. Cabbie guy asks me how long I've been here, and where my family is: in Germany. Eventually he establishes that I have no husband. This was the mistake. I should just brazenly lie about husband, pretend he's waiting at home, invoke blood of Jesus or whatever one says (upstanding church ladies, please give advice).

That I haven't met the right guy isn't quite enough for him. I tell him that guys here are difficult. Why? Because I'm not so keen on the second wife/extra girlfriend/multiple extra girlfriends scenario. I thought we could leave it there, finally (note to self: Maybe in future avoid this discussion strand, talk about what a cranky cow I am instead and that I don't like having people in my space). I try to divert the discussion a few times, but no dice.

Thankfully we then get to Westlands. I pay him, and pretty much at 'Maybe one fine day I can cal-', I slam the door shut and walk. Not crossed a line maybe, but he was certainly quite comfortable with having both big toes firmly on it.

Or maybe he's a patriotic Kenyan and keen to redeem the image of this good country's men.

Or maybe I should say I don't cook?

(from 6 Nov 2017)

Uber Tales: The Scary One

I'm not a morning person, but this was a bit more adrenaline than I wanted or needed for 6am yoga class:

The Uber driver was a bit slow to get going, and then he took an unnecessarily long route to my place (Why are there so many Uber drivers who can't read maps? Why does the Uber map suggest such stupidly long routes?).

So I was a bit grumpy by the time I got into his cab, but at least we were on the way. Still dark, rainy, chilly morning. We had just gone past Tune Hotel when someone coughed in the back. I hadn't even thought of checking the back of the car, and suddenly discovering a person half a metre away from you when you hadn't expected to do so is, I can now tell you, terrifying. I jumped out of my skin.

The driver jumped out of his skin, and also out of his car. Turns out that he had dropped of a couple of guys at the petrol station next to the Mall (that's why it took him a while to get on the way) and apparently forgot to turf out this one!

(from 6 Nov 2017)

Dildos and Unsolicited Penis Peddling

I manage a pretty large Facebook buy-and-sell group. In it, you can find a broad variety of things, including vitenge, mitumba, kitchen items, lots of fake leather bags, cars, chicks (of the avian variety, I block the others), houses, pieces of land, bouncing castles – and dildos and vibrators.

Posts with the latter inevitably have a whole lot of comments with shrieking ‘Satan!’, ‘Jesus come!’, ‘End times!’, ‘Be ashamed of yourself!’, ‘You don’t need to do this!’ and more active hell fire and damnation curses wished upon the vendors and the buyers, too.

And then, just as inevitably, some dudes weigh in with concerns regarding what has the world come to, will women now dispense with guys completely? This is, as ever, a baffling argument to me: If you are worried that you will lose out to a piece of plastic or latex, dude, that says something about your sex and other skills. And what it says is not good. Sit your ass down and think.

Also, inevitably, such posts bring out the penis peddlers. They rock up, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, and offer their own appendage (natural! free!) to the various women who had expressed an interest in the items. Now the group has a rule that you must not spam other people’s for-sale posts with your own goods, so I have to expel and block those. Pole.

None of the man whores stop to consider that their all natural! free! appendage comes with the whole man whore attached, and maybe we don’t like his face, or his conversation, or generally don’t want to have our orgasm diluted by a stranger in the room. Or, for that matter, anyone in the room. Few to no people seem to stop and consider that these things might also be used by women in long-distance relationships and would certainly be better than cheating on their partners.

All this is as inevitable as death and taxes. Yesterday, though, one of the penis peddlers put a new spin on his move: He offered fornication (with his own free! natural! appendage) to the (possibly married) women making price inquiries, to save them from sure dildo-induced hell fire and damnation. If he fucks like he thinks, he’s definitely one worth foregoing.

Right, I need to get back to work. Don’t spam people’s posts with your penis. A good day to you.