Rajan Harinarain, a South African entrepreneur and inventor has come up with a temporary foldaway house for use in emergency situations complete with electrical wiring and fittings, doors and windows that can be erected by a small team in 5 minutes.
The patented structure weighs less than a ton, collapses to under a foot in height and can be modified with insulation/ventilation for hotter or cooler environments.
Links to the complete story at:

I don’t really want to be transformed into a four legged braying work animal but I have recently learned that there is Hausa phrase for foreigners who are fluent in Hausa; this being, “Ya iya Hausa kamar jakin Kano” which literatly translates to “he speaks Hausa like a Kano donkey.” Owing to the fact that ever since my arrival in Abuja I have on numerous occasions (at least six times in one day!) been addressed/spoken to in Hausa by many who have mistakenly identified me as a Hausa speaking Fulani woman I have decided to learn Hausa.
The security guard at work has kindly agreed to teach me a phrase a day. It is going well and I am further encouraged by two things. Firstly, there is no greater honour that can be extended to a visitor than treating him/her as if he/she was not a visitor. The least I can do to show my gratitude is to take steps to integrate with the people of my host nation and though there are over 200 hundred languages spoken in Nigeria I should not let this deter me from learning at least one before I leave. Secondly it has been brought to my attention that there are Hausa words that are similar to those that I am already familiar with as a result of my knowledge of (dare I say fluency in) Kiswahili. I feel like the battle is half won so why not go all the way?
So for anyone else who wants to join me in quest to become a Kano donkey; here is a list of English words with their Hausa and Kiswahili translations and who knows maybe there shall be an all Hausa blog soon.
*Learn to count and days of the week in Hausa.

is it me or does he look like Rock from Fantastic Four. Move over Chiklis!
1.2 million children have been orphaned from HIV/AIDS- related illnesses.
1.2 million children. Do you ever wonder, who are these children?
where are they?
what do they do?
what do they eat?
what is the future for them?
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if from today, this moment, there was never a new infection in the world. None. Not one. And it can happen.
Its about getting tested, together with your partner, every single time,
Together, because your partners status is not yours.
Its about being faithful, if not for your partner, then for health.
Its about being safe all the time, never letting your guard down, never getting lost in a moment,
Its about living positively if you are infected,
Its about remaining negative if you are not infected
Its about offering love, support, care to those that are infected..abolishing all forms of stigma
Its about good governance,
Its about seeing the disaster for what it is and making a deliberate effort to fight it, eradicate it.
Be safe, get tested, stay safe, walk the walk with those that are infected, support them, help them live positively, care for and about them, accord them normalcy, because yes, it is a disease like any other, like cancer at the end of the day.
Its about a million things at once,
Its about keeping the promise, Please, please, Stop Aids.

oh yes! what a story line! what a duo!






The BBC Website carries a story about a Ghanaian mechanic called Frank Darko who claims that he can make any car from wrecks and scrap.
From the article:
Mr Darko is a “straighter” - so-called because he can straighten crooked vehicles.
He is one of an estimated 80,000 mechanics, engineers and artisans who work in Suame Magazine, an industrial slum, possibly one of Africa’s biggest.
Frank Darko specialises in straightening wrecked vehicles. On the outskirts of the Ghana’s second city, Kumasi, the Magazine’s origins lie in the city’s long history of working gold and other metals.
Over time, more and more of these artisans turned their hands to vehicle repairs and engineering, eventually moving to Kumasi’s Suame suburb after World War II.
In a continent and a country where buying new can stretch already overburdened pockets, the Magazine’s artisans show how far you can get with ingenuity, skill and a few mechanical tools.



This morning, I woke up and started dancing to my Beatles. A neighbor nonchalantly asked me “what are you listening to?"
What?!!! Of all human crimes committed, that is one.
Who asks about the Beatles like I would ask about one of these ‘people’ that sing nowadays. I know that statement just bundled me firmly where I long bundled my parents, but….I would only ask that if I heard something like “here’s my dick, hold it for me”. Then, I would ask, who dat is?
The Beatles?!!! *smh* Don’t disrespek (yes, I am confident my neighbor can relate to 'disrespek' as opposed to 'disrespect')
Anyway, I was walking down to the shopping centre and I run into this dude and it went like;
Dude: Hi, I have to confess, I was walking to Uchumi but I saw you and decided to walk to meet you. I think you look very good.
*smh* what can I say, it came with the genes. Issss just a lil baby phat phat!
Me: Thanks
Dude: so I was wondering if I could have your name and number
Me: (to give credit, the man be fine. okay. He looked good and he was in shorts and sandals, and vile I’m a sucker for men in cool khakis and black Tee’s…just saying) My name is Christina.
The guy knows there is no way that is my name. Eti Christina. Chritine, maybe, Christina…Pfffft, how that?
Its weird. I wonder how men feel when they get told such lies. Like the guy in the club I told my name is “Imelda”.
I have nothing against Imelda, but I do not look even remotely close to one…, and I am shit at telling lies with a straight face. The next time I saw him, he came and said to my face like 4 times “hi Imelda”, and I was looking right at him before I went “Oh hi”, and I felt so shit that I told him “you know what, I’m sorry I lied to you, my name is “KM”.
I haven’t lied bout my name since, I dunno why I did it this time. It was the safe thing to do.
Dude. I’m,(insert name)….awwww, halafu it was a cute, manly name. Nothing like Desmond, not that there is anything wrong with Desmond!! Are you not going to give me your number?
Me: Another time maybe
Dude: Do you live around here?
Me: Not really. I’m visiting friends. (another lie)
Dude: (Looks at me, smiles theeeeen, and here’s the scary bit) Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you or anything.
What? Kill me? Duuuude!! that really is no cool thing to say. That is shite scary!!! Eish!! He might’ve used nicer words like I dunno, anything….who uses the word kill?
Halafu it does not help that I have been reading this voluminous scary ass book Crooks Crimes and Corruption, its brilliant, you wont find it in Amazon you cool amazoners, bully for you!!!, tehehe!
It has these stories of sijui kina Jack the ripper and that totally weird Emperor Bokassa of CAR, yaani the man was plain mad. I was laughing when I read that story, it was not funny that he killed school children who could not afford uniforms he forced them to buy, obviously at an atrocious price and more importantly from the clothes company he owned, halafu he throws them in jail eti “ you wont need uniforms in jail”. Children!!!!
What was funny though was how much of a ‘forcist’ ‘jipoxer’ ‘insistor’ the man was. Tehhee, eti he used to call the French President “papa”. I give up.
And theeeen, during his coronation, he had spent hours self sequestered, LMAO, I bet he was pacing at the mirror being all ‘queeny’ and things, watching re-runs of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation so that he can have one like that!!!! Negro Puhleeze!!!
Which he did, only that most people politely declined to attend when they heard the unreasonable and selfish ends he had gone to to make that happen like borrwoing I dunno, only 10 M pounds, halafu, the few that showed up were fed on “delicious” nyamas, of errrrm, the prisoners he had fattened in fresh air and good food. I doubt they knew what they were partaking in. Yiiikes!!
That book has all every single event that has happened in history, from Hitler to Catherine to Idi Amin to the Mafia to Jack the Ripper to Bonnie and Clyde to Count Lustig, the con who sold the Eiffel tower, TWICE. Twice Daddi (i like using that word, mwehehhe, if all only to piss snotty types off), Twice!!
Total absolute unadulterated coolness. I should be a detective, a con, a dictator, a spy, a swindler, a femme fatale, a murderer a villain.
End of digression/ wannabe book reviewist mode
So I was saying, I am a S.L.U.T for the Beatles. Waiiit, come back, I’m not that old school. I know I have landed myself into trouble with my friends when I want to listen to Beatles while they want to listen to ummm Mariah Carey *gags*. “looooove, takes tiiiiime, to heaaaaal when you’re hurting so much” **hand me a sick bag**
I know some of you cool people only know of Songs by the Beatles like “Let it Be”, sijui how “yesterday all your problems seemed so far away” and if you really try, “A hard Days night”, and you think you know the Beatles. *smh*, children of today.
Why don't clubs have like "Beatles Karaoke night" every effin day!!! That would be superfrigginfantastic!!
Like do you remember how Carnivore Rock night used to blast "hard day's night" and kids, yes, would scream they 'have been working like a dog' and dance to it like it was all new and ughhhh, annoying pests vexxing me!! I will eat a child I swear!!
I’m sorry, I can sing along to no less than 50 songs by the Beatles. Word for word, with the little harmonies like ‘uhh’.
I will trade Morning sex for Beatles. Okay, I kid, but if I had to, I would be at crossroads. That, for me, is dilemma.
My parents love the Beatles…and **looks around, sighs** Dolly Parton, LOL, yeah, my folks are uncool man, they pretend to be all cool and collected when I’m going nuts prancing around dancing to the Beatles. Mummy would prolly say something like "KM, could you please stop playing and do the dishes", tehehe.
Mother( I have always wanted to say that!!, Mother! Like some Brit Aristocrat! Like if my mother was being mean to my fiancé I would say "Mother!", and peace shall prevail you get? **sighs, I'm so on my own here**)
Well, mother listened to the Beatles when she was pregnant with me, prolly singing to my father that ”You never give me your money. You only give me your funny paper”, teehehhe, but I got bit by that bug.
I love every single song by the Beatles, every single one. I love even the ones I have never heard, not that there are any. I have heard them all, and I am a happy camper.You hate them compared to how much I love them!!
Don’t you love how they have a song for every mood?
Like when you are really down in the dumps you go like “help me if you can I’m feeling dooooown. Pleeeeease help me”
Or when you have fucked up and dug so below the ground that you can taste the mud and you go like “Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da life goes on bra, la-la how the life goes on”.
Or when you are accused of evils against men and you sing “Did she understand it when they said,that a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure?”
** rolls eyes, yeah, duuuuuhhhh, he must. Is there any other way?
Man = break back. Period. What can I say? I'm spoilt.
Or when blinded by *gags* love, you go like “Till there was you There was love all around, But I never heard it singing…I never heard it at all. Till there was you” *gags*, Beatles!!!, don’t be letting me down like that!!
Anyway, my all time favorite song has to be “when I’m 64”.
One time, after a year of my life I cannot account for or talk about, I was little, prolly 9, and that Christmas I was with all my family, and we all danced to that song.
It is really cool.
**Lotus, bullshit head**
It speaks about contemporary issues that men still grapple with. Like ummm, “If I'd been out till quarter to three, Would you lock the door” *smh*, men, but they never change, but they are so ambitious. Open the door at 3! I’m just saying….No honey, I’m sure there is a nice warm bed where your ass has been maybe perhaps?
Of my most prized possessions are thoughtful gifts I have received. I am that kind of person who ‘people like to give gifts” I do not know why, but I likey. I likey very much. Just to cover my end, I am not saying shoes, even those a size bigger, bollocks!!!!, books, jewels, clothes, chocolates, holidays, scents and ‘dolby sorrounds hook ups’ are not thoughtful.
I’m just saying that some of the most thoughtful things I have, are;
- My Birthday gift Beatles Collection, and
- The lip balm I surprisingly found in my bag when someone noticed that mine was cracked.
He exchanged the broken one for an exact same new one.
That sounds stupid I know, but the thought process that went into it chuffed me to bits. God knows I love the man but oh well.
Both times, I have sat down to steady myself, shed a tear and really, if I lost these things, if anyone takes my lip balm and Beatles from me, (picture KM holding the afore said items close to her chest and almost shedding tears as a bunch of bullies approaches her, sniff,) you might as well steal my soul, hook me up with a sack cloth and find me a corner on River Road to pass my days....just saying.













I really enjoyed Scream1-3...not that it was scary but for some reason it gave good entertainment!
I actually dozed off in Van Helsing...yawn...Underworld 1 and 2 were not so bad.
Turns out local banks actually want to fund the restructuring of Telkom Kenya (see this story on EA Standard) but will lend KES 5.6 billion only if secured against the 9% Safcom stake the GOK is trying to offload. That 9% is worth at least double that KES5.6B and the GOK apparently needs Vodaphone’s approval to borrow on those terms.
Piece of advice Mr. Ndemo, take Vodaphone’s money. BBK, StanChart, StanBic and KCB are just being banks - trying to make money off you.
Thank you to everyone, not only for the comments accompanying this post but also for the love, support, empathy, patience and friendship over the past month and a half. It is appreciated.
The Lancashire sea-side resort of Blackpool is home to an Eiffel Tower inspired structure imaginatively named “The Blackpool Tower.” Standing at 518 ft 9 in tall (158 m) the Blackpool Tower is a great place to view the Lancashire coastline. In particular one of the lower platforms contains a glass floor which, while not advisable for those who suffer from a fear of heights, is a wonderful way to see the streets below. The people and cars really do look like ants! When the Dr and I visited Blackpool we told that we must attempt “the leap of faith” i.e. jumping onto the glass flooring. I am not ashamed to admit that I fell into the “O ye of little faith” category – I did not jump!
With hindsight I realise that it wasn’t faith I lacked; it was courage and the “leap of faith” title attributed to jumping onto the glass flooring was/is a misnomer. A leap of faith after all is defined as the act of believing in something without, or in spite of, available empirical evidence.
In the case of the glass floor at Blackpool Tower; there is empirical evidence to support the claim that jumping onto the glass floor will not cause you to drop to your death. It may not be readily available but certainly the engineers responsible for the structure could provide a series of calculations that prove the glass floor could withstand the “jumping weight” of a human being. The idea that jumping on the glass will lead to fall straight through is nothing more than an illusion.
It was only recently, November 13th 2006, to be exact, a month and a day after my mother died that I truly understood what it means to take a leap of faith. Since October 13th I have been told by many people that “things will get better,” “it will be ok, just give it time, or “it won’t hurt so bad after a little while.” From the time I left Kenya, a week after the funeral, to return to Abuja I sought proof to support these statements. Reluctant to go back to doing the things I enjoyed and talking with the people I love because all they did is remind me of a time when mum was alive. A time that I could say that though my mum was in coma she was still alive, we could still see her, touch her and speak to her. Happier times. A time that had gone forever and would never ever come back.
So here I am writing this blog post. I don’t want to write it because with mum’s death came this invisible line that marks everything in my life. Things, events, people, everything seems to neatly fit into one of two categories: those before mum’s death and those after. For a month I have tip-toed on that line. Not wanting to interact with those things that fall into former category for the reasons explained in the paragraph above and equally not wanting to cross over into the latter because I feel that, in spite of all the messages of “things will get better” I am convinced that they won’t. Yet I am writing this post because I know that the line is nothing more than illusion. Irrespective of how I feel the world did not come to standstill on October 12th 2006; it was for all intents and purposes just another day, as was October 11th I am writing this post because even though I have no proof that things will get better; I have to believe that they will.
So this post here; this is my leap of faith.
Hopefully tomorrow this same faith will empower me to respond to the lovely emails I received….and to write a thank you post…and to do all those things that I have been scared to do…


So last week there I am in the theatre...and I see this preview. WOW! In black and white almost sensual and totally thrilling...the voice quite familiar drawing me closer to the movie in question...there you see Dame Judy Dench and without a doubt realise this is a BOND preview. For a split second...I'm excited...my mind has totally turned against me and I'm screaming "MUST WATCH THIS MUST WATCH THIS!!!!!"
and then....BANG! HE appears! Deflation couldn't be a better word to describe...not even that shooting withing that famous 007 circle did anything for me. He will do to this franchise what George Clooney did for Batman. This is the beginning of the end.
Worst thing about this review...is I am still going to watch the movie. Talk about double standards...but Daniel Craig cannot pull James Bond OFF! Heck bring back Timothy Dalton-the worst BOND ever before this...Timothy must be somewhere smiling that his ill-rep is no longer viable!

Filed under “Haiya!”
So, yesterday, a friend of mine tells me, eti the jamaa has decided eti, him, him he is tired of fighting for human rights and all, so he wants a threesome.
KM’s immediate reaction, “Eyes-a-popping. And yes, my eyes are big, let it go.
Anyway, turns out the dude was not kidding seeing as he called to ask “have you thought about it?”.What a hyena!!!
No, he didn’t have anyone in mind, said Pinocchio but on the general, it’s a fantasy he would like to see come to life.
The worst bit is she is so repulsed by the idea, she does not want to, yet he keeps insisting! Now that’s just plain selfish and disrespectful. If she does not want, she does not want. That would be a very easy decision to make. Go get stuffed!
Now this thing about fantasies right? Let me ask. You talk about them right? You say you would do them if they would turn your partner on right? But if it came down to it, bana!!! The logistics!!!
Some are easy peasy. Like having a predilection for being spanked, hard fucks, gentle nipple biting….wait, is that fantasy or a way of life? Thin line. Thin line.
That is as close as some of us come to nurturing our masochist tendencies.
I may not take a whip to my rear really because, ouch, but there is something about spanking that says “I’ll make love to you tomorrow, today I’ll just fuck you” Just as well. Swiftly moving along then,
So, this threesome thing.
I ran home and tried to trick the jamaa, Superman if you like, into fessing up. Yes, with bated breath lest he said yes, let’s do it tomorrow, but we could not seem to agree on whether he would want a MFF(Male Female Female) because obviously he threw politically correct crap at me like, ‘hell no, I cannot stand another person, man or woman touching my woman’…..to “I would do it if it would really turn you on, but you are all the woman I want and need”. Muppet! (Mental 2006). The man just be fronting. Pretending to be the sacrificial lamb eti “if it would turn you on, I will suffer through it and have a threesome” and I know;
He would trip over a stool.
Break a foot.
Running to participate.
If the event arose.
Then I asked about a MMF (Male Male female)…ummm, that was a very interesting discussion, but yeah, he is not qualified to give opinions on this threesome thing. His thinking process is flawed.
I dunno. I really don’t.
I, for one, might smile and wave over a threesome lakini that mama would have to polish herself up because NO WAY my man is touching her.
What? Are you smoking grass?
And neither would I go down on her. Yes, I know it will do nothing to helf me solve the mystery of what pussy feels like in the mouth.
I hear is as soft and luxurious as salmon. I dunno, that’s what I heard.
I know what it (mine) tastes like. I have my ways, but it would be awesome to scan your kitty and lick it wouldn’t it? Narcissistic? I know.
But moving straight along, the logistics of a vagina (herein referred to as salmon), you can go down on really? A nice, neat, happy, clean, healthy salmon. Then maybe I can wrap my mind about eating salmon.
So, yeah, I can talk smack about threesomes, chest thump even, lakini aiiii. Ok, maybe I would kiss her and suck on her tits right? Tits are cool, I have nothing against tits, but seriously??!!!
And then there is the issue of me being extremely possessive and all.
I cannot even stand to see a random woman talking to my boyfriend. I don't smile, I don't wave. If I do not know who she is to him, my natural instinct, repressed of course because that is what restraint is about, is to give that woman a wedgie, stuff her bag into her mouth and tell her to git gone!! I mean, what if she is telling him stuff like “baby, you wanna fuck?”, seeing as I’m not within earshot and all, yes, those thoughts cross my mind, and yes, I know they might be saving the world so let it go okay?
So, me, the woman who if I had my way would stuff my man into a brown plastic bag, yes with holes to breathe- What? I’m not homicidal, and a few rations of food then lug him around.
Me, that girl, how do I even begin to wrap my mind about threesome? Another woman? Stop jokos (Udi 2006).
Then there would be the issue of designated roles;
-Who would choose the third party?
Let me just say, if it was left to me to pick the other female, in the interest of playing saboteur and all, I would bring you something you cannot tap even with a 2 inch thick blindfold. ‘Something the cat dragged in’ would cease to be an expression as you know it. I’m just saying
- What would be each parties designated role be?
In my head, the woman would not touch, suck, kiss, or come near anything, but, that’s just me. She would be reduced to a mere onlooker really.
Halafu, and here is the traumatizing part right?
What if your jamaa starts going at it with that mama with that look of ‘this rocks’ on his face and you are left wondering ala! Si me I’m the mama? Si I thought I own those goods wholly and exclusively” How now?
Can you spell Coitus interruptus?
Stick a knife thro my back or tell me to date a man who has never played rugby any day please thank you.
That threesome stays firmly entrenched in our heads, because in all truth, I see myself standing over 2 dead bodies with a bloody knife in my hand screaming “I thought I said stop!”
I think what saddens me about my friend’s hyena boyfriend. Yes, what a hyena, is the fact that of course, of course she should be allowed to say no if she is not comfortable with it. You don’t force someone to do that stuff. That is no different from rape!
For me, really, that is the stuff you talk about but if it came to doing it, you would have to consider what kind of relationship you have, would it strengthen you or leave you in a jealous fit and if you could sincerely stand seeing someone else within your partner’s peripheral vision.
Halafu, kwani she is not enough? Me, if my one woman freak show is not enough for you, haiya, go watch girl and girl porn and leave me alone.
I’m utopian like this right? I wouldn’t expect the man I love to seriously ask me to do it if I was uncomfortable with it. I like to think that two straight people can complete each other in all rational ways in bed. I like to think words like “baby, would you like to f*** me while another woman (insert evil of choice)” is not taken at face value.
Share my man? No way Jose.
And in the same breath, in the interest of fairness, how do men feel if a woman asked for a MMF?
Its funny, men are not very receptive to a MMF, the same way most, not all, men tend to be repulsed by Gays yet pitch tents for lesbians.
Sorry, I’m already hyperventilating (not in a good way) at the thought of an MMF, but knowing men and their egos, that would be downright messy.
First, they would be trying ‘go first’, then to outdo each other at your expense. You would be the sore (pun fully intended) loser in that one.
Then there would be the guy who would go home sulking because maybe he is less endowed, in size and skill, and God forbid if that man was your dude, well, not mine I'm just saying, because you would spend years in shrinkage (no pun there) mending a very very bruised esteem.
If it’s MMF, it’s a blow, beneath the belt if I should mention, to a man’s ego and perceived ability to satisfy a woman. But noooo, when it’s the MFF, its okay because, men are turned on by the whole lesbo thing.
I dunno. Hell, I would think the man did not love or respect me enough if he asked me to do it. And still yet, to totally contradict myself, I might want to do it but really, it’s all a blur. You want to keep the intimacy between you and the person you love and you want to experiment…Maybe with someone I was not in love with, maybe with someone I trust enough to be that adventurous with. I dunno. I just don’t.
But I am the prude. Would you do it?
Seriously, I disgust myself. I do.
I am never drinking again!! I know I said that after last office party at Christmas last year, but, eiiishhh.
Thing is, my body is not very well equipped to handle vast amounts of alcohol…and I hate, totally loathe the feeling of drunk and out of control.
I cannot have more than 3 beers in a night.
Yes, I consume shots and concoctions too, but on the general, I am very unpleasant to be around when I am drunk.
I sleep, I rant, I wanna go home now!!! I wanna gag, I wanna lie down for just a minute..people piss me off. Ughhhh! And then there is the unpleasantness of just being unable to control yourself that bothers me.
For me, it starts with the inability to hold a drink in my mouth.
I spurt (euuugh) it out when I laugh, grossly disgusting, please God!
And I know, if I keep drinking more, I’m going to be in funk. That’s my cue to switch to water and to dance. With someone I know. Don’t you just hate dancing with people you do not know?. Sheesh, you dunno their scent, its weird, they stick their crotch into your ass, Why oh why do people do that? Yukk.
Yeah, so the spurt is my signature move. Some people start to slur and philosophize. Dude, you can’t be a slurring philosopher…and they are speaking CRAP by the way. CRAP. (I hate drunk slurrers. It’s so tiring to listen to people think/doze before they can speak).
Uh, oh, some switch accents. One minute you are sitting with this ‘cool’ person, with this Brit accent to go, and halfway into the evening, he/she is spitting kikuyu and kikuenglish like Njenga Karume, and you sit there thinking. What the….!!!
Teheheh, I like to laugh at such people. No, really, I laugh at people in their face.
Uh, and the ones who cannot walk in their heels/ broken heels/sling shoes over their shoulders and walk to the car barefoot kinds. I totally love those; I may have been a victim of that. Maybe. Perhaps. Parking lots are littered with those. I like to be watching that drama. Not be in the drama!!!
Tihiii, don’t you just love it when you are tipsy. Just right. A little tipsy and horny, and funny, and pretty and sexy and you dance and guess what, you feet hold their own, ah! That’s the best place to be.
Not the kind of drunk where one minute you are conversing and the next you are flat out blacked out!! Ama you are stepping on people and falling over them on the dance floor!!
So anyway, I did get drunk. Very. I know I drank not less than 6 different drinks, in colossal amounts. I drank wine from a box too. A box!! Could I be any more of loser?
And I drank some ‘dawas’ my cousin made (her version of, she got the recipe online and they kinda taste like Carni ones, she even puts those R(B)amboo dawa sticks thingies) ….very yumm.
And I drank shots of so much shiet that at some point I was loud, and I could see people thinking, why the hell are you yelling? And, aaaand, my mum called me and I was yelling down the phone and she goes “when did you become a shouter?” Faaaaaarrrrkkk.
I am so off alcohol. I feel really yukky.
I remember;
- Finally got into bed
- Room is spinning, and my stomach is doing this whirlwind thingie in sync with my head and the room, I hate that.
- Sat up abruptly to stop the spinning
- Lie back down. Spinning continues. Open eyes to stop spinning. Nuthin doing
- Sit up, a-fekking-gain, thinking. I NEED TO PROJERCTILE VOMIT if I’m gonna come out of this alive
- Drink some water
- No vomit in vicinity
- Lie back again, spinning. Sweating. I’m hot
-God please forgive all my sins
- Pour cold water on my face and on my bed. Yes, I was IN BED. Bliss. It was so cold..and nice
- Have to vomit
-Stagger into bathroom. By stagger, I mean I was swinging from one side of the room to the other
- Stop to laugh at my staggering. Tihii, I gat jokes.
- Get to bathroom. Kneel.
-I think I feel like I wanna go.
- Stand, sit on toilet, hold head in my hands
- No go.
-Revert pose, stick head into bowl. Spit in. No vomit.
- Stick effing hand into mouth
- Halelluyha, gag for a minute. God! What did I drink? I vomited evil. It tasted like fuckin cardboard when it came thro my mouth. Y.U.K.K. Was that shite in my stomach?
- Finish. Brush.
-Drink a liter of water
-Get into bed
-I’m freezing now…..
UGHHHHHHH! I am not drinking like that again. How could I forget how crap it feels to be drunk!!!! Ugghhhh.