There are those days where you lazily go home. The days you ask yourself what would have happened if you refused to be pushed off your mother’s cervix and just stayed intact attached to your food resource pipe and eternally moonwalked inside the womb.

How many of you have seen a jini? And I don’t mean Genie in a bottle. You know there is a difference between a genie and a jini? I think a genie is white; either British or from the US. You see the way you set up your new laptop or phone and you are asked to choose your language?

Rumor has it that the fresh grain eating pests have morphed into more potent and lethal organisms able to withhold more resources for more and improved services. It is said that the new breed now hide in different and more advanced cocoons called the CX5.

You see, there is some guy somewhere so bitter, chocking with bile that you guys decided to put the chicken seller in power and not Mauzes who would take him to Canaan and give him KES 6,000 every month.

What a sad story. You rather die than have a goat chew your wee-wee. Glory to God that I am alive. I wonder what they could have said was the cause of death.

My barber was born in the age of Sparta where men were born on ice, played with snakes and ate mashed crocodile skin. He has shaved my cranium for four good years and I am about to make him The Real #BabaThe5th.

Do you know those things you keep saying or have said in the past, “Mimi siwezi, kwani mimi ni mwanamke!” but end up doing them? Well, I must confess it was either my life of ze zing! But I know many of you won’t believe me but isokay! Ze Lord is my witness!

My village people, I know you are eagerly waiting to help us offload our baggage off our cars as you give us those double-sided hugs. Forgive us for touching your kids’ hair and asking them ‘ulikuwa number ngapi’ as if we have something great planned for them.

Plot ten was a no-go zone because it was where prostitutes and chang’aa bruised degenerates would do their transactions. One day we were awakened by wails and I witnessed something that completely changed my life.

I thank Mama Soda for my life because the first fridge I ever saw in life was hers (Or was it Coca-Cola’s? 😕). I knew that all refrigerators were red and they had a posho mill engine because of the noise they produced.

My mom is the reason I am not married. I remember I was standing beside my primary school crush spitting M.S Patel’s English Aid lines and she swiftly walked past us jealously saying, “You wouldn’t say that this is the same Siloma who farts like a torn drum every night.”

Barbershops are for softies who love their heads caressed with eyebrow-deprived female attendants. I only get my hair cut in a Kinyozi. A place where the tail of a dead cow does its magic.