tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-111177922011-04-21T12:15:01.674-07:00My thoughts. Wispy figments of the physical me. A map by which I alter the physical space that I occupy. And if by happenstance you should stumble upon them...."Man-Up! and Keep walking"Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.comBlogger1511100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-46154813120395754712007-05-17T15:27:00.000-07:002007-05-17T15:35:04.094-07:00My Politics,<br />My Politics is non at all<br />I believe in God and revenge<br />I believe there is a devil and there is evil<br />I believe that we are all equal<br /><br />In a world where nought but our bodies is ours<br />How can I believe you less than I?<br />Well with my girth....but nice try!<br />With dirt that is pawned for<br />Fought for<br />Killed for<br />How can I deny you,<br />Your right to dirt that you earn with your sweat<br /><br />My politics is to treat you like you and I were one<br />My creed not your's<br />But my belief that you may believe<br />My tongue not yours<br />But my wish that you should be free to speak your own<br /><br />I relish that where I am dark,<br />You are faire<br />Where I am silent you are loud<br />that in our differences<br />You may speak up for me<br />Where I stand out for you<br /><br />My politics<br />Let me not choose my brother over you<br />Unless he's very soul be in peril<br />and he's last breath be nigh<br />I will not choose my brother<br />Where you are more able<br />I will not choose my brother<br />Because we do not see the same mountain<br />I will not choose my brother<br />Because your dirt is not the same as mine<br /><br />I DISDAIN NEPOTISM AND TRIBALISM IF ALL THE BLOCKS WERE THE SAME, THE BUILDING HAS EVERY RIGHT TO COME CRASHING DOWN ABOUT OUR EARS!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-4615481312039575471?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-9132250684482730542007-05-12T14:31:00.000-07:002008-12-09T16:59:42.384-08:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/RkY47zpWVHI/AAAAAAAAAA4/zGZdqkV6Wlw/s1600-h/cupid_dead.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063797431151776882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/RkY47zpWVHI/AAAAAAAAAA4/zGZdqkV6Wlw/s320/cupid_dead.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Mhmm, ebu explain,</div><br /><div>If love is soooo good,</div><br /><div>why the hell does it hurt like a biscuit!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Shoot!</div><br /><div>This is warfare! </div><br /><div>This is geurilla fighting at it's best, or should I say worst</div><br /><div>With a bit of cold war espionage thrown in for good measure!</div><br /><div>Each side vying for the upper hand</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Where the hell is the UN?</div><br /><div>Who's going to play ref.?</div><br /><div>I want a lawyer!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>But when all is said and done, </div><br /><div>I don't want out</div><br /><div>I want to fight with you</div><br /><div>I'm happy when I'm unhappy with you</div><br /><div>I'm unhappy when I'm not with you</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We drive each other batty</div><br /><div>I can drive you up a wall and round a bend,</div><br /><div>When I raise an eyebrow</div><br /><div>You purse your lips,</div><br /><div>And we've had a conversation</div><br /><div>You cross your arms</div><br /><div>then I shrug my shoulders,</div><br /><div>a silent war is declared</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Ranks close in</div><br /><div>standing toe to toe</div><br /><div>I sigh</div><br /><div>You breath in</div><br /><div>and with a kiss</div><br /><div>we redefine our rules of engagement</div><br /><div>a truce is declared.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-913225068448273054?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-11776201415107818952007-03-25T13:58:00.000-07:002007-03-25T14:09:43.543-07:00I sleep with content<br />Every waking moment is filled with living life<br />What I know now<br />Is the profound love that we share<br /><br />My thoughts of you<br />Are yours of mine<br />Each discontent with the engaged tone<br />As each dials the other simultaneously<br />We are one you and I<br /><br />And may that fates allow<br />that I may never be blighted<br />with the loss of our love<br /><br />To H from L<br />Always<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-1177620141510781895?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-29281748246794227802007-03-16T16:46:00.001-07:002007-03-16T17:01:27.389-07:00Dear God,<br /><br />After all the pleasantries are exchanged, and I know you're fine, after all you are God. Let's get down to business or better still, I beg and you look down <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">amusedly</span>.<br /><br />So, dear God, tonight when I go to bed I'm praying that you should make me 6 inches taller, only six inches I'm not asking for much. I know you don't make many mistakes, but, just this one time I think that you're manufacturing machines may have had a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">glitch</span>, because I really do think you owe me those few <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">remaining</span> inches.<br /><br />And while we're talking about machines with glitches, may I tell you about the saddle bags, can I give them back. I'd like to return them, I didn't actively go out seeking them, I however have been actively trying to get rid of them. Could you look into that?<br /><br />As for child bearing hips, I'm not exactly trying to get pregnant so I don't exactly need them now. Is there some sort of cold <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">storage</span> that you could hold onto them until further notice, or just keep them, I'm sure <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">there'll</span> be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">someone</span> else who could put them to better use than me.<br /><br />I know that it's short notice, but because you created the world and its contents in seven days, little ole me in one night should be cake walk.<br /><br />yours ever so gratefully,<br /><br />SJ<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-2928174824679422780?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-11614377159248916162007-03-06T09:49:00.000-08:002008-12-09T16:59:42.526-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/Re2sxVQTTZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Vb5VhnIHYn0/s1600-h/pollution.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/Re2sxVQTTZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Vb5VhnIHYn0/s320/pollution.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038873521616539026" border="0" /></a><br />In the quest to be green/ <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ecologically</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">friendly</span>, my new year's resolution was to take public transportation, and walk to the corner store versus drive. A <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">recommendable</span> resolution no doubt, it has however left me more traumatized than I had anticipated:<br /><br />1) I've been shocked by watching a woman at the tube station make a four course meal from buggers in her nose.<br /><br />2) I've been packed like a sardine in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tube</span> coaches, and when I thought we couldn't possibly fit another human being in the coach, a guy larger than <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Pavarotti</span> at he's heaviest squeezed in! I still have my wallet imprinted on my rear! And after being in close <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">proximity</span> with people you would think I'd be more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">friendlier</span>... oh hell no! I'm crabby and have a rude retort at the ready to even the guy who hands out the metro newspaper, he now just quietly hands it over<br /><br />3) IN trying to be a good employee and get to work early, I calculate my commute to work, and since I want to be a healthy human have started walking to the train station, however, some twit decided to stalk me in the wee hours of the morning...6:30am!!! I do not leave the house until sun up...literally, I'm not in the mood of making a 30 minute brisk walk 15 minutes again! Not to mention people always look at you funny when you're sweating profusely in the train on a cold day!<br /><br />SO screw being green! I'm not interested in being squashed in a train coach, because national rail want to reap a bigger profit instead of adding more coaches. I do not want to be stalked on the walk to the train station by the neighborhood psychopath. So I spit in the eye on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">conservationist</span>, I laugh in the face of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">eco-</span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">warriors</span>, I'll spout carbon dioxide like a cow burping methane gas! Being green should not increase my discomfort, it's bad enough I have to work, I don't have to be miserable about it!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-1161437715924891616?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-19144765034755076062007-01-21T10:49:00.000-08:002008-12-09T16:59:42.697-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/RbPJUs-DYSI/AAAAAAAAAAY/WRXirclTN64/s1600-h/homiessmall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/RbPJUs-DYSI/AAAAAAAAAAY/WRXirclTN64/s320/homiessmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5022579366954230050" border="0" /></a><br />Men and their boys,<br />If I hear about your boys one more time....<br />About Jay, Doc and E,<br />About how tight y'all are...<br />About how you would go down for your boy( please define cause I'm having trouble with this one!!!!!)<br /><br />Why? WHY!?!<br />Look at these misfits and tell me why Lord!<br />What happened when you created Jay,<br />You know Jay,<br />The one that can't hold down a girlfreind, even if she was inflatable!<br /><br />And don't get me started on Doc.<br />That two, no make it hundred timing dog<br />who'll chase anything in a skirt, except when he's in key west!<br /><br />And E, The Hater E,<br />The one who always manages to get my blood boiling<br />He's the bad influence...whipped!<br />That's it, that's he's favorite line... You whipped Dawg....?<br />You want to spend time with me and you make it sound like it's my fault<br />Cause you're been listening to E again!<br /><br />All your boys' classifications for women,<br />Junior mature for the 29-33<br />Looking for husbands and the white picket fence<br />Mature 33 and above<br />Lonely and looking for any kind of male attention<br />then the Juniors the 25 to 27's<br />All this thanks to Doc!<br />If he paid as much attention to he's work a he did to the women he chases,<br />He'd be the highest paid Doctor in the whole US of a<br /><br />SO honey forgive me if I don't jump for joy<br />When I see you and the three amigos standing at my door<br />Expecting to be waited upon hand and foot<br />Eat me out of house and home<br />and then leave me with the dishes when you go out clubbing<br />Wake me up at 3.00am cause you're to drunk to drive home<br />Then grumble all day and lie on the couch like a beached whale!<br /><br />If I wanted to live with an aquatic animal I'd go deep sea diving<br />I'm not your slave<br />And if I see your boys show their sorry behinds anywhere near my fridge...<br />Somebody's gonna get whipped!<br /><br />So come on over and get some lovin' honey<br />But leave your boys at your place, not mine<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-1914476503475507606?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-73015293271901656682007-01-06T09:33:00.000-08:002008-12-09T16:59:42.847-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/RZ_inO2NFAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/SUrIEW_xEs0/s1600-h/happy-new-year.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A4vNRaYP9CA/RZ_inO2NFAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/SUrIEW_xEs0/s320/happy-new-year.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5016977673542243330" border="0" /></a><br />This year, all I want is a little consideration. I do not want to be the first one to put my hand in my pocket, neither do I want to be the first one to call. I don't want to be the one to pick up the pices, throw the trash, clean the bathroom and check the mail. I want to be the person that doesn't do the dishes, doesn't do the favours and doesn't share the chocolate.<br /><br />This year I want to give other people the opportunity to be considerate. Therefore this year, I will not offer to pick you up from the train station, walk, take the bus, grab a taxi, whatever! I will not offer to make you dinner, after the customary glass of water, and that's if I'm feeling generous...say your peace, and leave.<br /><br />This year I promise myself the theatre. I will not run out of money because of someone else's disorganization. I will not, have my alcoholic privileges curtailed because someone else had to buy an expensive pair of shoes. I will not shy away from asking for my money back. And if you can't pay back 10 pounds, don't even thinking of borrowing 100!<br /><br />I will attempt to keep in touch with people I like. I will not talk to peope who annoy me, and I will erase the telephone numbers of people who I always call, but who don't take the time to call me. I will not call you to see if you're alive and kicking, however should you wish to tell me that you are alive and kicking, very well, good, glad to hear it. In fact this year, I'm going to not call, unless I'm called. I hope for perfect radio silence<br /><br />This year, I will make adult decisions about my pension, I'll start it....<br /><br />This year, I shall fall in love with the joys of solitude. I will embrace the charming, cultured company of a certain moi! I will enjoy with unabashed pleasure, the whimsical fancies of my personality. I will NOT seek approval to be what I am, a human butterfly with the attention span of a cricket.<br /><br />This year, I will find a new job. Maybe return to the states, maybe go home, whatever the outcome, I will move my own cheese.<br /><br />This year, I will embrace the spirit of happines, in everything, and every waking moment. I will thank God that I only have a migraine and not a tumor, I will thank God, that he's only my boyfreind and not my husband, I will thank God, that my boss has the inferiority complex and not me, I will thank God that the wailing baby in seat 28B is not mine, I will thank God that I'm not the one stuck in traffick, and I shall do all this and more, joyfully.<br /><br />What are your new years resolutions?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-7301529327190165668?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-22804345377704443192007-01-04T11:38:00.000-08:002007-01-04T12:32:10.041-08:00In Kenya:<br />1) You are under no obligation to give your driving licence to the police, but you are obligated to provide it at the nearest police station<br /><br />2) You are under no obligation to be frog marched in your vehicle to the nearest police station. You may be frog marched under the auspices of the government in their own vehicle, whilst your vehicle is towed to the police station.<br /><br />GOOD LUCK<br /><br />The laws are only enforced over extended public holidays such as christmas and new years and only for purposes of fleecing innocent wananchi, and that's only because the thieves and such suspects have been shot on sight....dead.<br /><br />On Dec 26th Police Officer 50028 made money at the police blockade turning to Gilgil, this was done under the guise of looking for seat belt, (note that the drive reverse bargained to 300shillings from 1000 shillings) And only when the money was palmed did he release sthe driver's licence. Imagine how many vehicles were travelling that day, and how much money he received for supposedly doing he's job! We were all wearing seat belts mind you... Stupid driver looked like he could a pee'd he's pants<br /><br />The laws are also enforced when they are barely applicable!!! Take for example the Eldama Ravine Road block, where the CO who looked like a string bean swimming in soup (somehow I don't think that was he's uniform) Pulled us over for overtaking at a solid yellow line...Now I ask you have you seen the roads lately...WHAT LINE?????? Taking the same said driver licence he commands one of he's minions to ride shot gun and ensure that we kmake it to the police station. Eh, one problem, I was riding shot gun. CO uses he's very intelligent brain and tells me to jump in the back. Eh, another problem, back seat carries 3 passengers, and there are already 3 passengers snuggly seated in it... I can't fit. So my little mind says, eh...why don't we wait for next convoy vehicle, you can have driver( who has penchant for attracting trouble ) and we'll be on our merry ways, so let's not all go to the police station, but stand to the side and wait, after all it doesn't matter where we wait, here or the station, right? CO grudgingly gives in although yells for all and sundry thatno one is above the law( except the law enforers....?) Next convoy vehicle arrives and CO understands that owner of vehicle is more than willing to hand over said driver and we're not paying a penny for him, after all he's got that kinda face the cops like, we might get to Nairobi faster if we ditch him . CO sends us off! Better luck next time!!! These bunch of misfits, also called police men were not wearing there badge numbers at all.<br /><br />NEXT!<br /><br />British Airways: Passenger rights<br /><br />You have the right to be packed so tight jumping into a can of sardines will be like travelling in your own personal plane!!! That's right not only are you packed worse than a sardine travelling coach, you get to have the pleasure of being bounced about on the tarmac when the pilot is halfway out suit and tie infavour of black ankle socks and sandals (gross!!!), I wonder if he engaged the emergency brake ?!?<br />You also have the right to be subjected to the lack of customer service as you call all their telephone numbers( 6 at last count, courteously given by Telkom Kenya) and have none of them picked up over a time span of close to 4 hours.... what could they possibly be doing, annual office footbal game?!? or was it cricket ?!? And if that doesn't drive you round the flipping bend you get to be subjected to the disorganized debacle of checking in (BA0088 Jan 3rd 2007 NBI to Heathrow) with one printer not working and the inept Floor Manager Mary Nasiali/a (what's her face!!!) thinking it would still be a good idea to keep that particular check in counter open, which meant longer check in times, for the unsuspecting idiot that stood in it! (If you really must insist, yes, me!!!) while the guy behind the counter ran like a headless chicken from one check in counter to another begging to have the luggage tag printed! only to hear the helpful words..."Utagonja" from the other counter, that's when I flipped a switch and let them know not only do I hear and understand swa, I also have a penchanct for insulting people in said language! So why did I bother checking in online if I was going to spend half an hour checking in again at the airport? To ensure I got a seat, which is ironic because under the unwatchful eye said Mary I could just pay to sit wherever I wanted to, just like the largesse family of indians did, on a fli8ght that was threatening to be overbooked....?!?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">So what is the moral of the story</span><br />1) If you're going to travel anywhwere fly don't drive<br />2) And if you're going to fly anywhere, DO NOT FLY BRITISH AIRWAYS!!!!!!<br /><br /><br />And by the by, belated Merry Christmas and Happy New year, I hope that you have a better year than last year, and don't forget, tomorrow is FURAHI DAY!!!!!<br /><br />CHOOS<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-2280434537770444319?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-18355199827430767432006-11-22T12:34:00.000-08:002006-11-22T12:50:51.471-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1248/1357/1600/PWITCH.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1248/1357/320/PWITCH.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />There it is,<br />that feeling again,<br />it's starts as a twinge,<br />a question,<br />a niggling doubt.<br /><br />I push it aside,<br />brush it off,<br />shrug, couldn't be,<br />it's not like that this time<br /><br />She laughs,<br />her crooked finger pointing at me<br />looking from between her fingers<br />as she covers her face<br />shoulders shaking in mirth<br />yes darling, this time's exactly like the last<br />she whispers venomously<br /><br />Then the feeling comes back<br />and it grabs at my heart<br />squeezing just a little at the corners<br />a tight pinch<br />between forefinger and thumb<br /><br />I shake myself<br />physically brushing the feeling off<br />but with cold clawed fingers,<br />she grabs at my heart<br />crushing so hard it's totally engulfed<br />The cold rushing through my blood<br />and as I gasp out, a quiet plea<br />she whispers again, with mirthless glee<br />Believe it my girl, just like the last time<br /><br />Smearing off traces of fleshy heart<br />She turns her back to me<br />Folding herself back into the dark<br />I'm left alone.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-1835519982743076743?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1162774311716051022006-11-05T16:47:00.000-08:002006-11-05T17:03:10.860-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/pharoah.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/pharoah.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />He has ruled these streets for many a year<br />His charm and his wit like a sepulchre<br />Tall as he stands <br />Larger than life<br />This man <br />This God<br />This african adonis<br />Long may he rule<br />Over vast valleys and rivers<br /><br />I met him at a club. He was beautiful, 4 inches past 6 foot, and like he said, double that for a good time. He was hilarious, a gorgeous smile that tickled me down to my very core. I am addicted to tall men, not tall and skinny like a string bean. He was athletic and decadent. A butt as tight as a drum (trust me I checked ;))<br /><br />He has manners that could put a courtier to shame, such charm such wit! So it was lovely. So if the fates are kind maybe I'll be seing this Egytian character again.... and then again the fates have been smoking some wacky tobaci..so we'll have to see what happens.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-116277431171605102?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1162051074357662262006-10-28T08:37:00.001-07:002006-10-28T08:57:54.360-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/high.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/high.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Hello, My name is S.<br />I've been clean for 2 months.<br />But it's been a difficult 2 months,<br />I'm not sure that I can do this.<br />This addiction's got me by the nuts.<br />No matter how hard I try to walk away, <br />I'm drawn back, sucked in, and I can't escape.<br /><br />And it's not just any drug,<br />I'm picky with my affliction.<br />I like the pain to be just like so,<br />Always pushing to get more of it.<br />My flesh is so weak, <br />No matter how hard I try,<br />I'm dragged in, grabbed in and I can't escape<br /><br />This condition that I've got,<br />This constant craving,<br />It's like an itch I've got to scratch<br />Like a mosquito bite<br />Knowing full well It'll only be pain in the end.<br /><br />The doctor's can't cure it,<br />The new age therapists with their psycho-babble,<br />Want me to embrace it,<br />I feel ill to the heart when I think of the effect<br />The weakness, the lack of control,<br />In fact I want to lose control,<br />When I'm under the influence I want to fall,<br />I want to be high<br /><br />And this drug,<br />This new stash,<br />This delectable sweet mad rush it's promising<br />With he's sweet calls,<br />He's Soft caresses,<br />Oh help, sanity run to my aid<br />But too late,<br />I close my eyes and succumb to this tempting forbidden fruit.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-116205107435766226?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1161869330991714502006-10-26T06:22:00.000-07:002006-10-26T06:28:50.993-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Lorna%20afternoon%20%284%29.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Lorna%20afternoon%20%284%29.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />This is a picture that my freind took whilst visiting in Bedford.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-116186933099171450?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1161863420476656542006-10-26T04:40:00.000-07:002006-10-26T07:17:50.410-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Photo-0026.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Photo-0026.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />When I opened my mind,<br />Did you wait with bated breath<br />Did you wish to hear some clue of where I hail,<br /><br />When I opened my mind,<br />Did you hear the difference<br />My rythm is unique<br />A different drum<br /><br />And this door that opened,<br />Did you accept it as it was<br />Or try to change it to fit your mould,<br />And shut it when it would not fit<br /><br />And when this door was opened<br />Did you walk into it<br />The threshold is only the beginning<br />Are you afraid that I do not fit<br /><br />When I opened this door,<br />Did I invite you in,<br />When I opened this door,<br />I did not mean to find judgement<br /><br />Now that this universe is disclosed<br />Is it moonlit midnight<br />Or Sunny High noon shining yellow gold<br /><br />If it must be one or the other<br />Let it be a universe of reds and blues <br />Unchartered worlds,with rising suns and setting moons<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-116186342047665654?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1161857612203074362006-10-26T01:32:00.000-07:002006-10-26T06:21:59.000-07:00It was funny, literally in the Ha ha sense. It's become a weekly thing with my freind in the states. Every Sunday I'll pick up the phone and give her a holler, or she'll be online and the girlfreind session begins. The important thing is the last conversation we had. It so occured that the particular gentleman in her life became a has been. After stringing her along, he came to the conclusion that they were undergoing the same problems as a result of he's "issues". And that it would be unfair of him to put her through all this pain, while he was still working through he's issues. Eh? Unfortunately that sounded too familiar. It was like a vile flash back come to haunt me, except the character roles were being played by other people! But I could have sworn...Why was it, so I cast my mind into the recesses it avoids like a local driver on a lumpy road in Nairobi. It appears that there is a book somewhere, under the chapter title " It's not you it's me, I care for you too much to hurt you" that has been read and dutifully studied by a couple of chaps! And that's the diatribe they dish out when all in all the basic truth...Look I'm not that into you, but I want to make sure that you're still hanging about with enough pity to ensure pity sex!!!<br /><br />Well then! Here's my response:<br />The truth is simple in it's ugliness, brutall in it's clarity and yet painfully healing. The longer a chap strings along a girl, the odds are that one day he;ll knock on that door and it will be her delightful pleasure to open it only so that she can slam it in he's face with decadent glee! Any body parts that get caught in the kerfuffle are a bonus! <br /><br />Everyone has issues, life is one big issue, and when one has sorted their issues, made their money, got their degree, got their grand job, written the great American novel, run the great race, come to grips with their own genious...But the truth of the matter is after all that..THEN WHAT? pick up the peices of life that were put on pause whilst pursuing the great issue. Andwhile life is on pause, everybody elses life has moved on. Freinds have gotten married, the pet gerbil up and died, best freinds have had two kids and are settled into a disgusting contenment with life. But funny, not so ha ha, how all these people have had issues and life has gone on and they've held on. So what makes their issues less important and grand? What makes it ok to put someone on a leash and leave them hanging and waiting? Don't even say, they should be smarter and know better... because when it comes to issues of the heart, it's not alright to wantonly hurt someone, it's not OK to be a coward, it wasn't called Brave Heart, the word encourage has it's origin in the french word meaning to have heart! So deal with it! Step up and quite being a TWAT! After all, tempting Karma is like courting disaster, it may take years, it may take a night, but it will bite back. And then what?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-116185761220307436?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1160927321605010512006-10-15T08:10:00.000-07:002006-10-15T09:03:42.456-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/party.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/party.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Mhm....<br />A little naughty, a lot nice, I like a lot<br />Dark in the club,<br />Hunting gear set and ready to go,<br />My butt grab black pants,<br />My scooping neck top<br />My high heel boots that glint when I slide down to whine,<br />A winking buckle, hints at what lies beneath<br />The twins, sparkling and glinting under the teasing lights,<br />Dusted and scented, <br />Two ripe apples that would fit just right<br /><br />The Dj,<br />Appreciating that I came to dance,<br />He didn't have to coax me,<br />I wasn't hiding on a full dance floor<br />Every song made my body move<br />No thoughts involved,<br />If the beat demanded it,<br />My body gave it,<br />Every move was tighlty wound around the music,<br />An intricated dance, like snakes mating,<br />Poisonous, passionate, <br />Eyes were drawn to me,<br />Every move,<br />the shake of my hips<br />The little lick of my lips,<br />the trickle of sweat,<br />the single swollen bead that leaves a glistening path,<br />Right down this alluring path of temptation, from brow to breast<br /><br /><br />Tonight I would tempt,<br />No hopes, no fear, <br />My passion would be abated,<br />I hunt this night<br />for earthly pleasures<br />No regret,<br />No ropes to bind,<br />This night I am every passion unveiled<br />Every want unleashed on the unsuspecting,<br />A lone hunter.<br /><br />Drawing out the prey,<br />I dance to the music, my lure of choice,<br />I roll my hips,<br />I dip <br />I thrust<br />I sway<br />I whine<br />and with each move, I am surrounded, <br />Choice is easily made, <br />My appetite will dictate.<br />Tall, strong, confident.<br /><br />My eye rests on a perfect specimen, He's glance from the bar is appreciative,<br />Watching from lowered gaze,<br />head flipped back to reveal a soft throat,<br />Showing vulnerability, yet awaiting he's fatal step that would spring the trap, as he moved slowly into position,<br />Yes, he's assured of he's success, he approaches,<br />A small but firm bump of my hips,<br /> he moves closer,<br />I looked shocked raise my lashes as if suprised that he's standing there<br />I rotate my waist,<br />He's Eyes watch every movement,<br />He's beer forgotten as he's hands reach out,<br />He's dazed<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-116092732160501051?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1158611620333086052006-09-18T13:11:00.000-07:002006-09-18T13:33:40.466-07:00Feeling like this kills me,<br />the anxiety that grips my heart,<br />Squeezing it tight,<br />leaving me gasping for air.<br /><br />Then my stomach tightens,<br />I feel like all my organs have been displaced,<br />gripped together and oddly foating about,<br />I hunch my shoulders foward,<br />but I cannot sheild myself.<br /><br />My limbs tremble,<br />I hold my hands up to the light,<br />my finger tips shiver.<br />As I arch backwards my spine tightens,<br />I gasp for breath,<br />And my heart beats out a crazy tatto,<br />While my stomach mirrors my fingers.<br /><br />I just left a message for you,<br />I'm not sure you'll call back.<br />I have faith in bad karma,<br />always the same, it never changes.<br /><br />I hurry up to wait, and wait and wait<br />All the while making excuses.<br />will you, won't you.<br />Maybe tomorrow?<br />My heart begs for mercy,<br />My mind now in turmoil,<br />Hind sight is fifty-fifty,<br />You shouldn't have,<br />Too late now.<br />Just wait.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115861162033308605?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1156808386704704342006-08-28T15:59:00.000-07:002006-08-28T16:40:31.026-07:00That's right, My christmas shitlist!<br />Number one as always is Father Christmas, for giving my high hopes about my christmas presents only to viciously dash them in the morning, a whole year and that what I was looking foward to!!! But he's not the main aim of this post.. nope. Mr. Christmas has now been joined by Hope and Cupid! <br />Lets start with Cupid, that mooning child has made a mockery of my love life (or lack of it thereof) And as Cupid is a mytrhical creature, an infant that refuses to grow up it means that my love life is upto the whims of a flyin naked baby. My approach to children is simple ...discipline! So I would smack that baby's butt three ways from sunday and get out the old cloth nappies that dried into that horrible roughnes and diaper he's sorry behind! If I'm in an especially vicious mood after the last escapade, I'll give he's nappies a good dousing of starch! Yeah... how do you like me now?!? And just to make sure that I remain safe from the whimsical fancies of an infant I will hire supper Nanny to make he's life a living hell.<br />Let's move on to Hope. Hope's main objective was to aid abet and collude with that devil spawn Cupid! How do you fan the flames knowing full well that i'ts a matchstick and not a bon fire? What kind of cruel joke is it to have high hopes about meeting some wonderful guy (my freinds have decided that while other girls want a hot man on a steed, my man will come in on a harley...how now?!? ) All I can say to Hope is...get the hell outta town when I roll in because they'll definitely be some bitch slapping going on. I don't prescribe to violence but sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! I will dish her phone number in all the pubs that I know (and a couple of websites!!!) I'll give her address out to the religious fanatics that make house calls! I will change all the labels on her foods and make sure they're all full fat! And watch her gain weight! Get her pills that slow down her metabolism! While I'm at it I'll change all her dresses at the counter so that she'll think she put on weight between the shop and her house!!!!!<br />And that's my christmas shitlist<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115680838670470434?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1155572614545156452006-08-14T09:10:00.001-07:002006-08-14T09:23:34.566-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/827969291023_160W_159H.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/827969291023_160W_159H.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Now don't you all go rushing out there at the same time but... don't say I din't give you the hook up either !!!<br /><br />Born Goapele Mohlabane in Oakland, CA, this singer grew up in a socially conscious and politically active family. Her mother married South African political exile Douglas Mohlabane while studying in Nairobi, Kenya. At an early age, Goapele attended the Berkeley Arts Magnet School where she led a pre-teen peer support group. She also became involved in various groups and organizations that combated racism and sexism. It would be these extroverted activities that assisted her singing career as she would also sing at community functions. In high school, Goapele sang in the Oakland Youth Choir and became part of a semi-professional music group called Vocal Motion. Upon high school graduation, she attended the Berklee School of Music in Boston, where she studied music theory<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115557261454515645?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1155553969548606732006-08-14T04:07:00.000-07:002006-08-14T04:14:43.913-07:00There are sometimes when I could swear that my braincells were diminished in quantity and quality. Then you meet the morons (collective, more than one)!<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTXK7Rm5nj8"><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTXK7Rm5nj8</a><br /><br />And then (that is after you've viewed the genii on the above URL...) you wonder, if these are the policitians of the future we're all doomed! So go on throw back that cyanide capsule and chase it with Sou. CO... because it's not getting any better!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115555396954860673?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1154391641112986192006-07-31T17:07:00.000-07:002006-07-31T17:20:41.143-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Salsa%20Dip.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Salsa%20Dip.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />We stand toe to toe<br />In the loud silence before the opening strands of music begin,<br />I raise my head,<br />Set my shoulder back, and my body lengthens against yours<br />You Straighten,<br />Your Arms embrace me as a frame to a picture<br />The first strands tease us, each one warming to the other<br />We take opportunity of the first few bars to introduce ourselves<br />I adapt to the length of your stride,<br />You test the tension in my hand,<br />How strong is your lead ?<br />You send me out on the first spin, <br />My eyes search for you<br />I see you step to frame my body as you hold your hand out<br />The tempo increases,<br />Introductions complete<br />You take my hand masterfully in yours<br />Your Hand on my waist, you guide me<br />Your confidence in my ability to dance increases<br />You lead me with one finger,<br />Your other arm behind your back<br />We spin around each other<br />My arm around your waist as you turn<br />Your palm on my shoulder as we change positions<br />We are one<br />Like the earth and moon<br />We are intertwined by an invisible force<br />I part my lips to take greater breaths<br />You lick your lips, eyes half closed<br />No room for thinking, it comes naturally<br />You lead, I follow<br />You command, I submit<br />And too quickly the music ends<br />We two salsaeros posed at the last note<br />My head thrown back, in line with my out stretched leg<br />You bend over me as you dip me<br />We both gasp for air<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115439164111298619?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1154227195535281322006-07-29T19:06:00.000-07:002006-07-29T19:39:55.600-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Love-zh.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Love-zh.png" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />'That which gives breath (ie. "spirit") to the heart, with a graceful motion.' That's the definition of the chinese character for love. I've been around the blog-estate, I was quite thrilled by <a href="http://kenyanmusings.blogspot.com/2006/07/hard-fuck-wedding-old-people-alan.html">KM</a>! You go Girl! ( I was rolling in the aisles.) But, all said and done, Girlfreind has made some valid points after that.... which led to some serious question time. Personaly I avoid question time, it usually involves a cantankerous magic 8 ball and questions to which I already know the answer to... hence the magic 8 ball because that way I can tell whether it's moral campus still works (like it cares!!)<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">So what did the magic 8 ball say about my current obsession</span><br /> Question: Is this just a matter of I'm falling in love and he's enjoying the side effects, viz...passion and lust<br /> Magic 8 ball said:You can bet on it<br /><br />Question: If I am hopeful enough, will this be a meaningful relationship<br />Magic 8 ball says: Absolutely Not<br /><br />Question: Should I go back to salsa classes and forget about the buzcocks?<br />Magic 8 ball says: Try again later <br /><br />Question: what tha...!?!<br />Magic 8 ball says: Outlook so-so<br /><br />And basically that's how we deal with relationships and things of the heart. I can't be blamed for anything I do because all my actions are sanctioned by the Magic 8 ball and by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo (authors of 'he's just not that into you').<br />As a result, I go through life not expecting anything (ok except from myself and my pay check) Try live your life with a magic 8 ball as a moral campus!! And the nice thing about not having any expections is the lack of disspaointments. I don't expect anything from you, so if you do nothing or do somtehing or do nothing when you're meant to do something, or do something when you're not meant to... you get the idea! I feel nothing. I am not dissappointed. As a result I control how other people affect me. My happiness is paramount, I want to be happy, Gosh Darn it I will be! I'll not be dictated to by someone's lack of calling, I will not sit next to the phone and wait for that phone call, I will not live my life expecting some wonderful prince charming to come along and complete me! I will not be dissappointed if my freinds don't show up to a party even if they said they will, I will not change my plans because someone wants to do something else.<br />So this is my ride. I do not,need to have it pimped out by freinds who cannot make up their minds and need a whole drama section...This is no hatch back but it's no stretch limo either! I will not get junk in my trunk because someone has emotional baggage and they want to share it, it's not an 18 wheeler either. Don't get me wrong, I love people, but at this point in my life, I'm going to love me a litle more, I'm going to like me,enjoy my company and agree to disagree with anyone just because I think they're wrong and not agree with them because I think it's being nice!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What's this got to do with love</span><br />Love can go screw itself! I'm tired!!!<br />Tired of trying to be sweet...because? The door mat has been rescinded, the damn door's shut and I best not see anyone sticking their head through that window because I will shoot first and ask questions later!<br />And another thing, just because I dance like it's going out of fashion at the club does not mean that I am going home with you...!<br /><br />And finally the truth. I was geared up for the weekend like life was starting again, but then men happened! One is 'Double oh dumb dumb', 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr.Hyde', and the last one was 'Random man at club'<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115422719553528132?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1154085067105595452006-07-28T04:06:00.000-07:002006-07-28T04:11:07.123-07:00Hey Beautiful People!<br />Happy Happy Day.<br />On the eve of the weekends may you<br />1) Have something other than the TV to look foward to tonight<br />2) Have something other than breakfast to wake up to tomorrow, better still have breakfast in bed<br />3) Last and not in the least bit... ave a knockout weekend! <br /><br />You read it here first... (that's your story and am sticking to it)<br /><br />SJ<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115408506710559545?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1154051409137889752006-07-27T18:42:00.000-07:002006-07-27T18:50:44.603-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/caveau%20bed%20by%20emaf%20progetti-788099.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/caveau%20bed%20by%20emaf%20progetti-788099.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I love the smell of new things<br />That never been used complimentary scent of a new car<br />That sweet plastic scent of a new Cindy doll (Screw Barbie)<br />And oooh, oooh, ooh that orgasmic, heart thumping feeling of retail therapy.<br />But your newness beats them all,<br />Your newness is enfolding, enwrapping ,engaging<br />Your newness is wholesome, and completing<br />Your newness is exciting and promising,<br />Your newness begs baptism,<br />My new bed.<br /><br />Seriously I have a delicious new bed that fills my room with the scent of pine, it makes my new duvet look even better. When I look at it with my guttersnipe's eye.... the images that waft like mirages, hovering over the bed, are quite breathtaking :D<br />So if I've been away, and If I'm not around for a while... but do I say....<br /><br />Go On! get your own new bed!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115405140913788975?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1153053404729674672006-07-16T05:34:00.000-07:002006-07-16T05:40:28.540-07:00I saw this quiz mania on <a href="http://www.crystalnotsoclear.blogspot.com/">Kipepeo's</a> And just had to try it out...it really tickled my fancy!<br /><br /><table border=1 bordercolor=black cellspacing=0><tr bgcolor=black><TD bgcolor=black align=center><font style='color: white; font-size: 28pt; font-family: Arial;'>PARENTAL</font></td></tr><tr> <TD bgcolor=white align=center><font style='color: black; font-size: 30pt; font-family: Arial;'>ADVISORY</td></tr><tr> <TD bgcolor=black align=center></font style='color: white; font-family: Arial narrow;'>STUNUH JAY CONTAINS<BR>EXPLICIT LYRICS</td></tr></table><BR><form method="POST" action="http://www.go-quiz.com/warning-label/warning-label.php">Username:<input name="uname"><input type=submit value="Get your warning label"><BR><br /></form>From <a href="http://www.go-quiz.com">Go-Quiz.com</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115305340472967467?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1152834219867572662006-07-13T16:27:00.000-07:002006-07-13T16:43:39.890-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/945_tuareg.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/945_tuareg.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Like a mirage across the desert<br />Hazy and shimmering<br />He's form completing the closer he came<br /><br />From he's flowing robes<br />To he's wrapped head dress <br />He stood before me <br />Like the Magi of past<br />Royal and Princely<br />The earth he's foot stool<br /><br />I drew my breath but it would not be drawn<br />I gazed into eyes spear piercing<br />And my mind was opened to beliefs hidden<br />I heard he's voice as clear as if it were spoken<br /><br />I return to you that which you lost<br />The beauty, the spirit,<br />The earth you inherit,<br />This dusty bowl that you scorn<br />Is the blood the beats in your veins<br /><br />Their beauty is not yours<br />Their riches do not adorn your majesty<br />Remember child from whence you came<br />Tis the clay that God created you from<br />Forget not the beauty he has embibed in your form<br />You are a princess among many<br />And like all princesses...<br />You must return from whence you came<br /><br />And then he left<br />As swift he came<br />My mind like the swirling desert sands<br />I am refilled<br />I am unearthed like an ancient relic<br /><br />To the Tuareg Lord,<br />I bow my head in gratefullness<br />For returning a crown<br />I carelessly lost.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115283421986757266?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1152658437906436862006-07-11T15:44:00.000-07:002006-07-11T15:53:57.930-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/2005-0523planet-full.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/2005-0523planet-full.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The street is quiet,<br />The children are safe indoors<br />The last car parked<br />The dog is quiet<br />In this silence<br />I feel near to you<br /><br />The sun has set<br />The pub is shut for the night<br />The last drunk has loudly staggered home<br />The moon quietly sighs it's serenity<br />In this silence<br />I am with you<br /><br />The last window is shut<br />The doors are locked<br />The alarms are set<br />The copper's on he's beat<br />And the crickets begin to seranade<br />In this silence<br />I reach for you<br /><br />I can feel you when the stars rise<br />I can feel you when the moon shines<br />I can feel you when the all is quiet<br />I can feel you when the darkness settles<br />In this silence<br />I am with you<br /><br />The world could collide with Jupiter<br />And Mars could make a bee line for this earth<br />As long as I can feel you<br />I will live long after the dust settles.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115265843790643686?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1152558168617863122006-07-10T11:48:00.000-07:002006-07-10T12:05:44.846-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/hourglass.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/hourglass.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I watched and waited,<br />Minutes doth pass and time doth age, still I waited<br />I hoped and I prayed, still waiting.<br />I sighed and breathest in, proceeding to wait again.<br /><br />I wait for thee<br />I hope and pray for thee<br />I search for thee<br />My minds eye will travel far to see thee<br /><br />I will sit here waiting when all else is gone<br />I will forego all pleasure just to hear thine approach<br />There is pleasure enough in hearing thine voice<br />I'm satiated greatly, by thy presence.<br /><br />And knowing this,<br />Thou maketh me wait<br />Thou herald all powers for that one momment<br />When thou shalt break my heart with hardest blow and sharpest knife.<br />And yet my love, I wait for thee<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115255816861786312?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1152402121451820482006-07-08T16:28:00.000-07:002006-07-08T16:42:01.480-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/villain_LostLove.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/villain_LostLove.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I saw it from my corner eye<br />A spectre, a ghost, some ancient spirit<br /><br />I glimpsed it as I crossed the street<br />I smelt its perfume passing by<br /><br />I grasped it when your eye met mine<br />Sliding, slipping, I held but air<br /><br />It made me rue the day we met<br />Regret, pure bile, twas all for not<br /><br />And now my thoughts of only you<br />No other soul will scarce compete<br /><br />No arms, no words, no kisses sweet<br />Will spare me from my death of love<br /><br />That I have missed this chance for good<br />Goodbye my love, my sweet, my one heart's truth<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115240212145182048?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1152394602982604202006-07-08T14:03:00.000-07:002006-07-08T15:02:09.680-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/madwoman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/madwoman.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />We go out of town for the weekend, Nessa (my bud) has not decided what to do so obviously she's still looks like a smacked bottom!<br />What should happen at this away weekend, it's neutral teritory, nobody's been pissing in any corners so the rule book is out<br />1) Thou shalt not engage in PDA (public displays of affection) and be captured on camerra (what happens in this joint, stays in this joint! (Did I forget to mention that Nessa does have a boyfreind)<br />2) Thou shalt not drink and dial (if they couldn't make it for the weekend...TOUGH)<br />3) Thou shall have thyself a good time.... irrelevant. The excuse of diminished capcity to justify any actions that may or may not be discovered during routine questioning at the point of return may be used against you at a future date in time....BE WARNED!!!<br />Right.... Let's play.<br /><br />Nessa and I shopped like we were going to die, as a result my banker has taken to calling me during working hours to determine that I am still employed!!! We partied like the world was going to end, I have some unexplained bruises to prove that I had a good time (That and obviously some git forgot about rule #1 so my happy behind is like plastered on kadha pages of BEBO.... and if you haven't heard of BEBO....who am I to tell you?) The club was hopping! I could have married the DJ...GOOD LAWD! I have never seen black men contained in one space like that before!<br />Well it's been a while (get your mind outta that there gutter!) and I just missed being surrounded by familiar accents and mannerisms. I danced till I sobered up, so I had to keep drinking, to keep my buzz going (my liver was working double time and I got the bill early Sunday morning.... do you know? your liver can actually hurt!?!)<br /><br />But that was what <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">we</span></span> did.... when <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I</span></span> was passed out, thoroughly amused with life in general in my room (ALONE...thank you very much!) Dear one i.e Nessa (and on account of having just the 1 brain cell on duty that night!) was getting loved up! And you know what that means.... I get the lovely task of picking up the pieces.... I get to tell her, (oh yes ! I wanted to tell her I TOLD YOUR SORRY BEHIND SOOO!) Don't worry you'll be fine, if it was meant to be.....sigh together here. (HAH!! <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0316260614/104-1360961-2419166?v=glance&amp;n=283155">girlfreind code book</a>, chapter 2, things to say instead of I TOLD YOUR SORRY REAR END SOOO! such a handy book ladies I suggest you all run out and bye a copy... updated and unabriidged!)<br />I get to look miserable (well that wasn't hard to do I was having labour union discussions with my liver! A strike seemed imminent!) and say It's arlight it'll work out.<br />Please note the following is a rant based purely on jealousy and other feminine issues.<br />No it wasn't alright because she has a boyfreind (who I think is a waste of frigging space ) but she has one! who even though he's cheating on her has her in mind... Go figure! But two wrong's do not make any one wrong better than the other. I do not want to hear about how you're going to dump your boyfreind for the 13th time this month. I do not care if the two of you fall off the face off the earth (especially your boyfreind, he's so up himself he could probably see what he had for lunch, and especially now that I'm negotiating with the Procelain God!)<br />Love is blind! Blind! not stupid! the man's a walking moron, he's village is definitely missing their idiot! He should be sent back ASAP!<br />But no now you want to add to this motley crew of idiots Man X who couldn't commit to one flavour of ice cream (he's favorite ice cream is Neopolitan... I rest my case) you want to tell me about two idiots in your life? Look, I have a boss and he's minions, I want idiots, I know where to find them! I do not want to hear it on the tube, or on the train, how you think IT (the stand ) was a bad idea.... how you shouldn't have done it! We've already had this conversation, I already told you it would be a bad idea...!<br /><br />I 'm going to step aside now and breathe.... deeply. And maybe...just maybe! I'll get run over by a semi truck and be put out of my misery!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115239460298260420?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1151938926330226002006-07-03T07:57:00.000-07:002006-07-03T08:02:06.366-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/one%20night%20stand.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/one%20night%20stand.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />A freind of mine found herself in a complicated situation. How does she have a one night stand with someone she's attracted to and walk away without getting hurt. I say don't, one night stands are difficult at best. But Would you?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115193892633022600?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1151411913541412242006-06-27T05:27:00.000-07:002006-07-08T16:25:50.060-07:00-Post six weird facts/habits about yourself. These cannot be used against you later on.<br />-At the bottom name the six people you will tag next.<br />-Leave them a comment to let them know they've been tagged and to read your blog.<br /><br />WIERD FACT:<br />1) The longest relationship I've ever head, has lasted a good twenty something years. Meet my other half... literally! My weight. Every new year's eve it's the same resolutions, I can bet on it year in and out that my new year's resolution will be.... LOSE SOME WEIGHT<br /><br />2)I'm a foodie. I like to cook and talk about food. I collect cook books so that I can read them, I rarely cook from a cook book, if ever. And on the subject of food, I used to taste the food while I was cooking it, now I don't. It's like I'm trying to surpise my taste buds.... does it tast like I imagined it would when I was cooking it! It's a game with me. I only recently started cooking with salt and that the most miniscule pinch of salt if a grain more.<br /><br />3)I'm pleasant to the point that I'll bend over backward to avoid confrontation. I will not call a person for months to avoid telling them no, in the hope that the situation resolves itseld without my having to say no and dissappoint them. However, when my Senior at work asks for something (anything, just name it) .... I am so saying NO!<br /><br />4)I don't like going for road trips with other people. I don't want the responsiblity of other people's lives in my hands. I'm that dumb a** that you see driving and making near death turns in front of trucks when I've missed my exit. I rarely drive less than 90 on the Motorway. I love speed, my need for it is ever unabated. That does not mean that I'm picky about the car I drive (meet Peni Tatu... my car) as long as it goes I could care less what kind of car it is.<br /><br />5) Vibes, I believe in them. Most of the communication people have with me unbeknowst to them is non verbal. Which sometimes makes it hard for me to communicate with people because what they're saying and the vibes they're sending are two complete opposites.<br /><br />6)If I believed in reincarnation, and I died, I want to return as a jaguar, the animal. I love cats big and small.<br /><br />I now tag <a href="http://civileyes.blogspot.com/">Mr. Bess</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115141191354141224?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1151254300759786032006-06-25T09:43:00.000-07:002006-06-25T09:51:40.813-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/1072206968_cturesfire.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/1072206968_cturesfire.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I sigh,<br />I refrain,<br />My desires are checked.<br /><br />He whispers,<br />My body quivers,<br />My passion is checked.<br /><br />He laughs<br />The flame leaps<br />I am willing to jump into the fire and let it burn<br /><br />My Mind scolds my heart<br />My heart rages at my mind<br />I stand rooted to the spot, neither foward nor backward<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115125430075978603?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1151191423988172162006-06-24T16:21:00.000-07:002006-06-24T16:23:44.023-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/macho1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/macho1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I want to say a heart felt thank you. I can't say it enough or show it enough but ...thank you thank you, thank you. I loved every minute of it, we should do it more often.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-115119142398817216?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1149621089863275632006-06-06T12:06:00.000-07:002006-06-06T12:11:29.893-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/African-mother-and-child-dr.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/African-mother-and-child-dr.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />All abnormal behavior is suspended until further notice.<br /><br />Abnormal:<br />That which will start any sentence with' Palikuwa....'<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114962108986327563?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1148421852339085892006-05-23T14:07:00.000-07:002006-05-23T16:35:16.646-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/BrauerSalsaDancersFB1019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/BrauerSalsaDancersFB1019.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />He was tall so tall I tipped my head back<br />He was so strong, so strong he swung me with ease<br />He smiled so sweet, I wanted to see him do it more often.<br /><br />But I'm scarred and I'm scared<br />I'm perturbed and I'm petrified<br />What happens now<br /><br />He was so charming, the words were so sweet,<br />He new the words to my favorite songs, and sung them as we danced.<br />We started with the first fast songs, panting and sweating at the end,<br />We then moved to the slow songs, he's leads calculating, as he twirled me on the dance floor<br /><br />I'm scared and scarred<br />Perturbed a little disturbed<br />What happens now<br /><br />He spoke to me,<br />Made excuses to stand next to me,<br />Made excuses to hold my hand,<br />He spoke quietly and I had to lean in to hear him over the loud music<br /><br />I like.<br />I like him a lot.<br />The way he moves on the dance floor is suave<br />He's lead is masterful, I am awed<br />The chocolate fred astaire and ginger roberts<br /><br />He is slowly robbing me of my will to say no.<br />To steer clear and want to view him from afar<br />To peer from behind this wall that I have put up<br />He is drawing me out, a snake charmer and he's flute.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114842185233908589?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1147989518858821202006-05-18T14:31:00.000-07:002006-05-18T14:58:38.886-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Jon.Adam-Man%26Woman-WEB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Jon.Adam-Man%26Woman-WEB.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />A sigh escapes my lips as I watch you sleep/<br />Your arms around me possesively/<br />You will let me move, but not away/<br />Your scent permeates me to the core/<br />I breathe you in/<br />Our limbs are intertwined/<br />Our restless souls now repose/<br />A sigh escapes my lips, as I cannot, I refuse to escape/<br />I am in love.<br /><br /><br />That's what I miss, that feeling of utter content as if touching a dream. I miss the initimacy of making love, the joy of laughter and whispers. I miss that clean scent of a man freshly showered.I miss the slight irritation that drove me mad.I miss the touching. I miss the t-shirts. I miss a man.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114798951885882120?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1147820283952980752006-05-16T15:57:00.000-07:002006-05-16T16:09:30.190-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/sleepy-lion.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/sleepy-lion.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I slip in to bed to fall asleep,<br />before I do,<br />I beg the Lord, these treasures to keep<br />One for sweetness<br />One for courage<br />One for Kindness<br />One for Love,<br />and above all,<br />all of you,<br />Who give me sweetness,<br />And give me courage<br />Who show me kindness<br />and put up with my ranting and raving.<br /><br />Remember folks.... don't drink and dial!<br />Love you Bunches!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114782028395298075?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1147646570001198372006-05-14T15:42:00.000-07:002006-05-15T15:47:52.860-07:00<div class="audblog"><a class="audLink" href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/116824/357471.mp3"><img class="audImg" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" border="0" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114764657000119837?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1147624482270459532006-05-14T09:28:00.000-07:002006-05-14T09:49:25.860-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/evig_bach.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/evig_bach.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I look at the phone.<br />I check the dial tone, working.<br />So why hasn't he called me?<br /><br />I'm going nuts, just waiting.<br />I turn on the telly to disguise the passing of time.<br />Two adverts, pizza and broadband.<br />He still hasn't called.<br /><br />Dinner was great.<br />I thought we connected.<br />He was funny, I was charming.<br />So why hasn't he called.<br /><br />I'm going to climb up the walls.<br />My hair's begging to be pulled out<br />I can't take it anymore.<br />CALL ME ALREADY!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">in the event that said young gentleman does not call I shall refrain from deep seated need to redesign said young man's car with car keys. in the event said young man does not call I shall refrain from calling said man's phone and hanging up when he picks up, of course under the guise of checking he's phone was working! if said young man does not call I shall not refrain from practising retail therapy until I feel better, that being said, I hope said young man does not call!!!! :D</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114762448227045953?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1147395997146595752006-05-11T17:58:00.000-07:002006-05-11T18:25:28.810-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/dinner_setting.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/dinner_setting.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I paid for my coffee,said goodbye to the kindly Maitre D', who swore that young men of today didn't know a good thing when they saw one. I laughed politely, and withdrew myself from he's presence before he expanded on the problem with young men today. I think I could fill a couple of chapters with my own love life as proof! As I sauntered down the street, the ourtdoor patio seating at resataurants begun to fill. Lovers all cuddling around a gloworm candle, holding hands and smiling into each other eyes. As the lover's toasted each other I could hear the tinkling of champainge flutes and wine glasses.<br /><br />The wine that night had been lovely, up until the point I bumped into Winnie, before I could get another word in edgewise, the Master of ceremonies invited us to dinner. I didn't want anything else to do with Winnie, I smiled at Fabian gave, Winnie a cursory nod and made my way to the dinning room alone.<br /><br />The dining room was decorated in black white and silver. The table tops were black and white with beautiful ice sculptures for centre peices. I settled myself for a boring evening of presentations punctuated with a three course dinner. A warm hand brushed gently against the nape of my neck, I looked up, and he was there standing over me. We heard a rather loud cough, Fabian and I turned to see Winnie standing to he's left. She looked at her chair and then at him, he got the hint and pulled out the chair for her. Fabian was sandwiched between Winnie and I, this was becoming ridiculous, someone was trying to punish me for something. I wondered who the other tortured soul to the left of Winnie was, that's when I noticed Rishi, what was he doing here? In fact, what was he doing here sitting so close to Winnie. A second glance at he's face and I could see the discomfort written all over it. He looked like a smacked bottom! I nearly burst out laughing.<br /><br />Earlier that day I thought Rishi was acting unusual, as in extraordinarily unusual. I was accumstomed to him telling me everything that happened in he's life, and if I let him he'd probably dish the dirt on he's boyfreind! I have an open mind, but somethings I'd like to live to the imagination, if not at all. When I was dashing out of the office over my lunch hour to pick out an outfit for that evening, I could have sworn I saw Rishi duck for cover under he's desk. I just assumed he thought I was still mad at him for changing he's mind about coming to the dinner with me that evening. Now I felt really guilty. Rishi and I shared the same mutual freinds and they knew that he was gay, unfortunately for Rishi, he's mother had pegged her hopes on him marrying Winnie. Rishi's Dad blames the invasion of western culture for all the things he can't explain in youth today, homosexuality being one of them. Rishi's Mom wouldn't get the concept if you sat down with her and drew her a map. So when I saw Rishi with Winnie, I knew what it must mean to be with her, she'd threatened to out him with he's parents thus guaranteeing he's corporation for the evening. He'd fly her to Cairo and back in a jet plane if she so much as sniffed, I've asked him to just drop her off there and spare the rest of us. Rishi eyes meet mine and we both shrug. I mouth condolonces:<br />'Three more hours, you can do it!'<br />He rolls he's eyes in response, takes he's butter knife and draws it accros he's neck. That last action sets Winnie's screeching off. I look at Fabian, our eyes meet, he smiles, he saw Rishi's attempt for freedom, maybe three hours isn't that bad after all.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114739599714659575?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1147370872600249682006-05-11T11:07:00.000-07:002006-05-11T11:07:52.653-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/116824/356021.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114737087260024968?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1146957529960126632006-05-06T15:45:00.000-07:002006-05-06T16:23:50.386-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/mansonette.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/mansonette.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />'Hey girlfreind! Haven't seen you in months. Kwani you don't call your buddies anymore? What's up with that?'<br />I was shocked, as I was watching he's lips part and expecting to hear the words that would make my heart skip all the way out of my rib cage, I had overlooked her, Winnie. Standing next to him , forcing her hand through the crook of he's arm. She looked like the cat that had just eaten the canary and washed it down with a bowl of cream. The expression on my face must have been comical, because he started clearing he's throat in between chuckles, beautiful deep husky chuckles. I hadn't been expecting to hear that screechy voice with a fake American accent highly sprinkled with Mother tongue influence<br />'Well? OOh you'd like to me MY freind, um...'<br />Aha... my attention is rudely brought back to Winnie. Hope flutters in my breast it means that she just met him...hope dies, it means she just met him. Not good, Not good! The last time Winnie and I clapped eyes on the same guy, it was not pretty.<br />'Hello Winnie'<br />I turn to Mr. Man and smile like I gave Victoria her secret,<br />'Hello Winnie's friend.'<br />He grins.Call the Paramedics, get the fire department on the phone, somebody get a priest! I think I'm dying! He's eyes actually seem to twinkle, and he has a dimple, no, he has two dimples. AMEN! God definitely made this Man!<br />If my eyes aren't definite orbs by now, I don't know how I'm managing to look calm. Shaking Winnie's hand gently away, he stretches he's hand to greet me.<br />'The name's Fabian. Nice to meet you, Winnie's friend'<br />I'm confused, I see he's lips move but the voice sounds like it's reverberating from deep within he's body, I'm tempted to look down. He's hand shake is firm and warm. I want to keep holding it for a long time.<br />'My Name's...'<br />'Winnie's short for Winnifred !'She screeches on happily, managing to appear oblivious to the fact that I was actually talking.<br />How does she do that? Ok! Alright! Meet Winnie already! Winnie the bane of my existence. When I see Winnie , I see a spiteful urban princess in a peter pan collared aqua green smock. Winnie's sole purpose in primary school was to make my life a living hell! Winnie who could melt butter in her mouth. Winnie who was born with a silver spoon shoved up her rear and out her mouth. Winnie who's blue blood by birth, was destined to have all the eligible bachelors from families with names that go back to pre-colonial days trip over themselves at her door. Winnie who's cook made chicken chow-men for dinner, and who summered in the United Kingdom! Winnie who looked yellow like the sun and decided that I must have been kissed by it, the wrong way. The Tar Baby she loved to pick on.<br />And here she is again, larger than life, the Gods must conspire against me.<br /><br />My coffee is now cold, cold and vile. The Maitre D', reading the look on my face brings me another cup of hot coffee, smiles consolingly, and reassures me,<br />' Ma Chere, I'm sure he comes.'<br />He wipes away imaginery coffee drops from the table, and takes away the old cup. The streets begin to clear, and the first twinkling stars appear in the dusky sky.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114695752996012663?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1146877930668391732006-05-05T18:12:00.000-07:002006-05-05T18:12:10.696-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/116824/353635.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114687793066839173?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1146658571592684952006-05-03T05:03:00.000-07:002006-05-03T05:16:11.620-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Alexander-William-21023-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Alexander-William-21023-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The coffee was strong and dark. The scent was revitalising, my brain took a temporary rest from all the what-if's it was putting through their paces. Then I had that first sip, the coffee was bitter and sweet at the same time, carressing the tongue yet giving me a good shake with the bitter tang.Then I remembered, I remembered the first time I saw him. I recognized him. It sounds strange, but it's true. He was familiar to me. I was aware of him, I could find him in the party crowd without looking for him, turn my head and he was there.<br /><br />We just looked at each other, there was none of the discomfort that comes from being caught looking. I liked the way he looked, and the way he looked at me, right in the eye. He didn't ogle, didn't leave me feeling like I should run behind the flower pot because I'd just been undressed, visually. He didn't have "the oops I wasn't looking for you , but now that I've seen you, I think I'll check it out" look. He saw me, didn't smile, he<br />wasn't threatening, but he wasn't inviting either. My interest was peeked, who was this man? He stood around with the other guys, but he stood out. He commanded the space around him like he'd created the very air he breathed for himself, such presence! He wasn't full of himself, he was sure, definite, he'd tell you the answer to that question is finite.<br /><br />I had to meet him. I broke the bigest chick rule, I approached him. He watched me walking towards him, expressionless. I thought to myself how odd,he doesn't give much away, mhmm...maybe he plays poker. My attention is momentarily diverted by some female asking for the lou, I point in some random direction (whoever you are, I'm soooo sorry if you never found the lou!). And then I was there. I was infront of him. He looked down at me, for the first time I realised just how tall he was. My heels high as they were only brought me up to mid chest.<br /><br />He said....<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Model is Alexander Williams. Picture Courtesy of http://www.jurgita.com/models-id21023.html</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114665857159268495?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1146179856182039402006-04-27T16:14:00.000-07:002006-04-27T16:17:36.210-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Cafe.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Cafe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It's about him.<br />He hasn't arrived yet, but he might.<br />I don't think we set a time, he didn't exactly say when he'd get here.<br /><br />I hoped it would have been now.<br />I'm a little worried that he may have gotten lost.<br />Thing is, I don't even know where to start looking. Did I take a wrong turn last week, or was it last year?<br /><br />Jeez!<br />Have I lost the plot, completely scappered the plan? But what was the plan. Maybe it's me who's lost and I should be finding my way back to the rendevous point. Was it at that coffee shop. You know, the one I like, the one that lets me dissappear in a sea of faces. How about that restaurant, was he there, I know I should have left the group behind. I didn't know it would turn out like that! I tried to make up for their rudeness... Doesn't matter now, even though I still cringe at the memory.<br /><br />There was that one time...nO. I don't think that was it, he would have said something. Maybe he's refused to say, if so Why won't he say anything? What's happened to us? I think I've done everything I should be doing... I think I'm where I'm supposed to be. This must be the spot.<br /><br />FINE!<br />I'll just have a seat, and wait for Goddeau, at least even He get's here, eventually!<br />Ok, Ok. I'll calm down.<br />I lost my temper. I shouldn't have thought that. Of course he'll be here.<br />He wouldn't not come,right?<br />He wouldn't be late,<br />Would he?<br /><br />'Hi, yes, I'll have a coffee. Black, no sugar.'<br />'Leave the chair, I'm expecting a freind.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114617985618203940?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1146178379225702122006-04-27T15:49:00.000-07:002006-04-27T15:52:59.380-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Scream.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Scream.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Je ne suis pas une déesse.<br />Je ne suis pas même une déesse de petites choses et des petits gens.<br />Je ne suis pas même une déesse moindre.<br /><br />Je suis mortel.<br />Je suis mortellement blessé.<br />Je ne suis blessé encore aucun carabin, ou le guérisseur peut me guérir.<br /><br />J'ai peur.<br />Je suis un avec la peur, que je peux ne pas être tous ici.<br />J'ai peur, à la différence des Anglais ont peur.<br />Peut-être je suis fou.<br /><br />J'ai fait face.<br />Je me suis adapté, pour vous et vous et vous.<br />Je n'ai rien pour moi, je suis creusé.<br /><br />Je dois être completeI doivent complètement être reassuredI doivent me trouver de nouveau.<br /><br />Un crime parfait n'a pas été commis.<br />Comme un criminel coupable je dois revisiter la scène.<br />Pourtant je suis innocent de toute l'offense.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114617837922570212?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1145926901118829572006-04-24T17:56:00.000-07:002006-04-24T18:01:41.146-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/adieu_reste.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/adieu_reste.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Adieu je reste<br />A change is as good as a rest<br />I've moved house<br />and with it<br />Comes the spring cleaning of the mind<br />And thus I wish to live a while<br />It's been in the making<br />I've had such a blast<br />An addiction I dared hope to last<br />But as all writers' block<br />this too will come to pass<br />I love you all Kay Bees<br />Definitely not wanna be's<br />Because y'all know<br />You've definitely arrived<br />I bow down to a movement<br />I bow down to a people<br />I bow out<br />I cry off<br />Adieu, je reste<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114592690111882957?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1145651493741050672006-04-21T12:54:00.000-07:002006-04-21T13:31:33.760-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/18%20moving%20house.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/18%20moving%20house.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I drive so often to and from Reading that I have decided to move there. And i have a weekend to do that because next weeks project is going to kick my rear from hear to next sunday! IF you have a car ans would like to help me move, I shall quickly plie you with pizza and beer....after the move :D<br />gimme a holla!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114565149374105067?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1145364732306755342006-04-18T05:37:00.000-07:002006-04-18T05:52:12.330-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/didge%20pict%20front%20website.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/didge%20pict%20front%20website.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">S'KIZA</span><br />ARTIST: DIDGE<br /><br />ALBUM TITLE: VINTAGE SWAHILI (IMAGINE IN SWAHILI)<br /><br />SINGLE: “SAA ZINGINE”<br /><br />Single release date - March 1st 2006<br /><br />Album release date – 30 aprilth 2006<br /><br /><br />For the past three years Didge has been in the studio recording and discovering his musicology.<br /><br />What began as a hip hop career has now grown into an ‘Urban Swahili’ soul project that is rich in content, maturity and truth. The 24 year old crooner has blended swahili’s beautiful mashairi (poetry) with neo soul to create a sound that can only be described as rich as Kenyan coffee.<br /><br />His first single off the album is titled “Saa Zingine” which in Swahili means ‘sometimes’, a song that talks about the little situations and moods in a relationship that change from time to time.<br /><br />His unique blend of urban Swahili soul will make him stand out, especially when you bare in mind that Swahili is the 7th most spoken language in the world.<br /><br />Didge is set to take over as a great singer and songwriter of East Africa taking after Fadhili Williams who sang the world famous track “Malaika”.<br /><br />So relax, sit back and put on some Vintage sounds then Imagine in Swahili with a great cup of Kenyan coffee - the world from Didge’s eyes.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ccccff;"><strong>And Stunuh Says:</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ccccff;"><strong>Yawa! Listen to this guy HE'S HOT! He's voice is soft like velvet, considering that I heard the song over earphones! Yaani a jamaa can tune me in Swa... in fact can you add a new definition.... EAR SEX! I'm definitely ....pantingly awaiting for the release of the whole album, But seeing as to how I'm so nice I'll hook you up with the single Saa Zingine! Courtesy of this delicious yummy gentleman (yeah I got the hook up!) I'll e-mail it to anyone who wants it! See, I told you I'm nice. Yeah, ahem, I'm not street but it will get ugly if anyones says a word against this decadent most delightful, sinfully lucious voiced man! If cassanova had a voice!</strong></span><br /><br />Just drop me a line at : stunuh_jay@yahoo.com or <a href="mailto:stunuh_jay@hotmail.co.uk">stunuh_jay@hotmail.co.uk</a> and I'll hook you up too<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114536473230675534?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1144706167760487162006-04-10T14:31:00.000-07:002006-04-10T15:02:52.870-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/octopus-trlogo-full.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/octopus-trlogo-full.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, I can't help myself. I was back at Reading this weekend. I had a really good reason, I was going to pick up Penny Tatu (modus vehiculus) from the mechanics, who I've decided is the bomb! (No, not that way... and you know what I'm walking about!) he definitely made Penny purr. So Friday night went to get my groove on the dance floor. And it was dancing like I could give a rats ass what anyone else thought, grind, whine! You name it, I did it! The DJ was so happy we got one bottle of champaigne...mhmm!<br />Saturday rolls round and even after a night out it's a fight to get back to sleep after 7.30am, what's up with that? I partake of some female beauty rituals (maintenance is key.) In the evening I went over to my buddies place to get the drink on, some amaretto and coke...sweet! Enter in Short Putt! OOOH annoying child, he actually tried to hit one me! I knew this boy from back when and, (not that I'm mentioning my age or anything) but he's illegal in some sectors of society! (Mainly the sane sector). I used to help him with he's assignements before I graduated, he's a young'un! That wasn't the worst part, that came when I had to drop his excessively inubriated Arse home! It was like driving with a drunk octopus, one hand on the wheel, while the other one smacking him away...WHY? What had I done against the God's to deserve such punishment? When the car stopped, I didn't wait to see if he went into the right house, let alone got out the car!<br />My trip to Reading would have been so much better if the little Short Putt had stayed put, elsewhere.<br />End Rant<br /><br />EYE SEX:<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/eye.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/eye.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>So good it'll make you wet! Man. The whole topic of eye sex came about when a freind was discussing my encounter with the current object of my infatuation. He was awesome, beautiful eyes, and the five o'clock shadow that promises to tickle my skin. Sweet Lord, am twikapated! Anyway everytime we tried to check the other out, we'd get caught out. He's eyes, my eyes, it was like the first kiss, working out who's head goes where. In the end it made more sense to just let it all hang out and enjoy. Hence our lovely walk, with a promise for more tomorrows. We fit, he's not too tall and my head comes up to just the right spot (NICKI... SO HELP YOU GOD, MAKE THAT COMMENT AND I WILL HURT YOU!).<br />So like a cat awaits a mouse with the utmost look of innocence, I will wait! With coffee's and movies and all the other opportunities to make promises with our eyes that our bodies definitely intend to keep.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114470616776048716?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1144361271450563672006-04-06T15:05:00.000-07:002006-04-06T15:07:51.483-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/eye.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/eye.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Eye Sex<br />What is it?<br />Have you had it<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114436127145056367?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1144096204253753462006-04-03T13:07:00.000-07:002006-04-03T13:30:04.286-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/ladiesnight-145pix.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/ladiesnight-145pix.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I had a good weekend. I had such a wonderful weekend I feel like I had great sex! The yummy kind that leaves you tingling all over, every nerve ending singing the alleluia round!<br />First and foremost long drive to Reading was well worth it. I was bopping along to R. Kelly's Happy People CD and stuck in traffic, do you know how many hot men there are in cars next to you.... AND GOD MADE MAN! AMEN!<br />Then there was the pub Crawl in Reading, an activity I swore I would never do. But Hey it was Friday night I was not going to stay home and knit! But it was a lovley night, my freind and I decided to where matching waist coats and black pants....hehehe! Now that was FUN! Talk about choking on beer, and missing their mouths when the Jacket came off, the guys were very happy to see us and our bubbly freinds :D (I would only do it again because I won every game of foozball!!!)<br />OK, I will be the first in line to admit that I become infatuated like the craters on the moon! Often. SO meet this very interesting Gentleman, who shall remain unnamed. The man's brain is like a 500 watt light bulb! But he's a lot fun. And I had a wonderful cup of Coffee with him on Saturday....ahhhhhh! and that's all I'm saying I don't want to jinx it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114409620425375346?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1143790876313371672006-03-30T23:36:00.000-08:002006-03-30T23:41:16.336-08:00Alright Ladies,<br />Don't say I didn't give you the hook up! You know you want to be looking like a new dollar bill (let's not push my budget here!) . The best presents are those that you would want yourself. So without shame (like I ever had any!) I am plugging this joint:<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#3366ff;"><a href="http://www.blush.co.ke">www.blush.co.ke</a></span><br /><br />BLUSH<br />apic centre,<br />1st floor,<br />westlands<br />tel:(+254) 20 3754101<br />cell:(+254) 724 463174<br />email: <a href="mailto:info@blush.co.ke">info@blush.co.ke</a><br /><br />but if you're genetically challenged, don't blame them. After all it is what it is!<br />Happy Friday Happy People<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114379087631337167?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1143733165301538482006-03-30T07:08:00.000-08:002006-03-30T08:12:11.423-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/havana_affair_by_eikoweb.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/havana_affair_by_eikoweb.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Well, so the dilemma continues. I'm looking at the phone like it could jump up and bit my butt! So what do I do:<br />Me: Look I'm not in a habit of confronting people when they do things that are contrary to my sensibilities.<br />Him: And that's supposed to mean what?<br />Me: Look I just don't think that we have the same goals here, our relationship (if you can call it that) isn't working. I'm unable to form long meaningful relationships ( with geneltmen who have undeniably strong feelings for my bank account. And require me to wine/beer and dine them , and by driving a total of 8 hours to pick and drop their sorry behinds). And although I'm very hopefull (that you shall be disgusted with my lack of communication skills and dump my very grateful A**) at the beginning of relationships, I' m genetically inclined to fail.<br />Him: What?<br />Me: I don't think it's going to work.<br />Him: Look, I need you<br />Me: No you don't...wait, what did you say? Did you say what I think you said?<br />Him: I really need you<br />(At this point I'd like to say, that it is not fair, neither is it acceptable for jamaa's to use such language! Especially when one is trying to shrug them off...)<br />Me: I'm sure you don't need me (and my bank account can't afford you) . I have to go.<br />CLICK<br /><br />I wish that was the end of that. If you ever have a girlfreind that you tell everything to...don't<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">DISCLAIMER: THIS PICTURE WAS OBTAINED FROM DEVIANT ART> THE ONLY PLACE I THINK IT'S OK TO BE A DEVIANT</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114373316530153848?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1143066608478822052006-03-22T13:57:00.000-08:002006-03-25T03:34:37.543-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/moi.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/not%20me.jpg"></a><br />OK the last post I wrote, I was avoiding the attentions of a particular gentleman. So two weeks and I think that I'm sitting happy right? I haven't heard from him (ok so he sent text messages and tried to call!) I didn't call him or send any texts messages back (really I didn't) ANd out of the blue the guy calls my house phone (Can BT talk to Bell South about caller ID ?!?!?!?!) So I pick up the phone.<br />Me: Hello<br />Him: Well<br />Me:Well What<br />Him: Can you explain why you haven't called me back or responded to my text messages<br />Me: Right now?<br />Him: Don't be funny<br />Me: Well I've been keep ing a low profile ( an that's partly true.)<br />Him: hmh ( llike that's supposed to be an answer! I hate it when he says that.... it's not even a word!!!!!)<br />Me: Right, the truth of the matter is I think that you will be much happier with someone more normal (encourage him to think that there is mental instability ...thank God for African Stigma's regarding certain issues)<br />Him: You don't say (AND what exactly is that supposed to mean?)<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">AND IN MUCH SOFTER TONE, LITERALL CAJOLING IF YOU EVER HEARD IT</span><br />Him: seriously what happened?(OK Panic, I'm supposed to reiterate my mental instability, but he's being really nice... Be strong, be strong, stick to the story)<br />Me: What makes you think anything happened? I've been thinking about us and it's best if you went out with someone more normal.<br />TBC<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114306660847882205?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1142985169518464222006-03-21T15:36:00.000-08:002006-03-24T03:19:47.610-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/0037-0505-1712-3007_SM.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/0037-0505-1712-3007_SM.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Relationship s are these wonderfulk things that I just treat like the kid with the broken toy in the sand box...walk away! When you come back, it'll be covered in sand and if you're lucky somone else will have picked it up and taken it away. I don't say anything or do anything, ok maybe it's the lack of doing anything. But I walk away. I figure that there's enough emotional baggage going around that I have the right to pick and choose the emotional baggage that I wish to be landed with for the rest of my life. And the bottom line arguement that even I am unable to argue with is as follows:<br />We don't get out of Life alive!<br />And doesn't that just justify the walk away issue. Why cause stress? You're only going to precipitate dying earlier. If you swing your foot enough times the other shoe usually falls off. If one says nothing then one is absolutely fine.<br />This theory of walking away is one that I use for all relationships, except those with members of my family, which is simply to keep an eye on them to make sure I know exactly where they are at any given time. Self Preservation!<br />But from my feedback, I think I'm doing pretty well with this theory. It works. Well as long as no one else is hooked on to it ;)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114298516951846422?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1142939222529666332006-03-21T02:57:00.000-08:002006-03-21T03:21:15.523-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/cat%20in%20the%20hat.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/cat%20in%20the%20hat.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Last night Dispatches (<a class="lettergreensmall" href="http://www.channel4.com/dispatches">Dispatches: Iraq's Missing Billions</a><br />Investigating what has happened to the 23 billion dollars entrusted to the British and American coalition for the rebuilding of Iraq. ) And it all dissappeared! I was shocked, these (US and UK ) are supposed to be democratic upright, judicially progressive countries and the money dissappears. You have hospitals that would make even Kenyatta Hospital look like something out of a state of the art medical journal! This was money to be spent on the infrastructure of the country, and it's pilfered.<br />Well on a brighter note! Kenya's problems with donor countries (mainly the US and the UK) are based purely on the fact that corruption within the country, even after the new president took office are still unacceptably higher. And the moral of the story is... don't steal from your own, steal from someone else!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114293922252966633?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1142165091026664962006-03-12T03:56:00.000-08:002006-03-12T04:04:51.026-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/sudan_genocide_genocide_in_sudan_1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/sudan_genocide_genocide_in_sudan_1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I promised myself that I wouldn't live the radio on while I nodded off to sleep, and theirs a good reason why. They (BBC nyanyako!) were discussing the Jewish Genocide aka Holocaust. Now before you go getting your underwear in a knot, let me explain a couple of ground rules:<br />1) Hittler should have been aborted, the one time I would have condoned the practise. 'nuff said.<br />BACK to point at hand,<br />The Jewish Holocaust was to be remembered so that it was not repeated to any other nation or group of people. What of Rwanda? What of Sudan? Or is it the fact that our skins being dark are not worthy of saving? I'm just really disgusted with western media and ideas right now, and I'm too pissed (highly annoyed and nearly catatonic with exploding thoughts) to blog..... Catch me in a minute.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114216509102666496?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1141578550776747602006-03-05T08:46:00.000-08:002006-03-05T09:12:11.610-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/hands.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/hands.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />OK.<br />It's Sunday and I'm working on my project, I had the whole of yesterday but one needs one day out of the week to goof off (Like I don't do enough of it already!) Back to the subject at hand, I'm working (yeah right!) and watching Star Trek enterprise, I can hear this guy describing a type of relationship. Based purely on trust, a relationship in which,he trusted this person that no matter what happened he knew that this person would not cause him harm. To trust someone to the point where, everything they did is in your best interest, and you understand this. That even if you're hurt by what they do the sting is taken out of the wound, because whatever they did they meant you no harm.<br />He was describing the best relationship, the type where you could turn your back and walk away, and if they did shoot you it would be because you would be facing and even worse death ahead of you, and they wanted to spare you the pain and torture. If they did not catch you when you jumped, it would be because there was a mattress there to cushion your fall , and it would be a lesson of getting up on your own two feet, but they'd be on the side lines cheering so loud you couldn't hear any of the doubts in your ears.<br />And just when I thought, Wow! Lucky guy...I rembered, that for most of us, that's our parents.<br />So hear's to Mom and Dad, the foundation of my sky scraper dreams, and for who, if God didn't strike me down dead (for this and other things!) I'd say through whom all things are possible! :D<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114157855077674760?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1141412802747233942006-03-03T11:00:00.000-08:002006-03-03T11:06:42.750-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Press Freedom: Letter to Kibaki<br />Dear President Kibaki:On March 2, 2006 government forces raided the headquarters and printing plant of the Standard Group. In addition to destroying equipment and newspapers, they shut down the KTN news station.This latest attack follows the jailing of three journalists from Standard Newspaper, attacks on Citizen Weekly, and ongoing harassment of journalists by government-sponsored forces.I urge you to condemn these attacks and to support freedom of the press.</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">**Please copy and paste a copy of this letter on your blog. You may alter the wording to suit your needs.</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">From Keguro's blog!</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">we should be free of mind and speech!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114141280274723394?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1141404569014546362006-03-03T08:46:00.000-08:002006-03-03T10:51:02.446-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/2721505.9.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/2721505.6.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I came across this picture. A rude shock considering I thought I had it hidden safely away from prying eyes, only to find that: 1) I was not the only one with a copy 2) And while mine was hidden from all view the other floated happlesly on the wireless web! But then I looked closer, and the story lines unwrapped themselves gentle silk filaments reaching into the mind to prod, sometimes poke the memories loose. And as I looked at my past fellow classmates, with the lives we have lived and the places we have been... I wonder aloud (as loud as the web will let me) If we knew then, what we knew now, would we change anything? Would we do it all over again with every mistep and every successful plan? Would we? Like it said of Virginia slims (not that I'm condoning the practise of inhaling nicotine... but,) we've come a long way baby!<br /><br />But on a purely different note.<br />My cousin cracked me up when she was describing some guy she was seeing. She refered to him as JVC. After she repeated it a couple of times as if I was supposed to understand it I asked her exactly what JVC meant... Jaluo Very Complicated!!!!<br />Laugh Your Asses Off and have a lovely weekend. Happy Friday Happy People.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114140456901454636?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1141080610385864792006-02-27T14:42:00.000-08:002006-02-27T14:50:10.386-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/normal_Absolute_177_5018.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/normal_Absolute_177_5018.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I'm learning how to say no. He's worked my nerves up, got my shackles up! Done pissed me off and I think he's the joke of the week. Say what brother? So I'm so nice I'm going to give you my paycheck and stay home to watch reruns? Say I'm so nice that I'll walk to work, here you take the car! Sure Hon, I'm so nice that I'll pick up your sorry ass to come visit me. Oh don't you worry about the tab Shug, I'll get that. And when I stop taking your calls, ain't I still being nice to you? Ain't I not telling you to take your sorry broke a** elsewhere? Ain't I not saying, that you're wasting my time and money? Ain't I bein' down right honeysuckle sweet when I ain't telling you to F*ck off can Call Tyrone? Like I said honey chile... I'm so nice....<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114108061038586479?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1140804347301767502006-02-24T10:03:00.000-08:002006-02-24T10:05:47.326-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/49526.23WINTER-OLYMPICS-FIGURE-SKATING-WOMENS-FINAL-TR2-USA.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/49526.23WINTER-OLYMPICS-FIGURE-SKATING-WOMENS-FINAL-TR2-USA.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But It's friday folks! Don't freeze your a**es out there tonight, go on and get your party ON! Party for two wine glasses and wine provided, phone's off the hook, and the cat's at the sitter's!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114080434730176750?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1140787115217360962006-02-24T05:06:00.000-08:002006-02-24T05:18:35.250-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/eating_crow.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/eating_crow.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I didn't see it coming. That's my story and am sticking to it. (As an aside: don't ever send e-mail or use the telephone when innubriated! TRUST ME cause you don't wanna know what happens when that e-mail or phone call gets returned!)<br />Back to the story. It, is a 6'-2" guy, the perfect capuccino, enough cafeine to have you buzzing but the smoothest chocolate ever keeping you sweet! My word, of course my first reaction was to ask if he had been interned in any asylum ( ARE YOU WELL? something along those lines) But guy was not going away... I really should pay more attention to the comments made on my blog! I had put up my resignation notice, apparently he didn't get the memo... or refused, but that's just arguing semantics. I'm still in shock... definitely still in shock. But I have to get out the humble pie and eat my own words, crow never tasted so good.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-114078711521736096?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1139082587851272652006-02-04T11:30:00.000-08:002006-02-04T11:49:47.913-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/eNG1196.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/eNG1196.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I am so very weary of getting emotionally involved only to turn into emotional road kill. Give me a hard hat, a rifle, fatigue and camouflage, and while you're at it give me some cover! I'm going to get reinforcements! Combat zone of love, and the phone calls in the middle of the night, from the victims of the battle. At 2.00am, you stir in your sleep, but there's no warm body next to you, to reassure you that the world can go to hell in a hand basket, you'll be fine.<br /><br />My standards for male companionship are so low, that as long as they fit the current criteria for legal adult human male, with accompanying schlong, I'm game. But withh all things, you can only kiss so many frogs before you start burping up slime! After the last frog, I'm hanging up the diablo bra, the stripper heels that make my good girl outfits purr! I'll keep the nails, the waxing and the perfume (am not giving up all my girlie toys). After a quick call to Anne Summers and a quick trip to the lyme green superstore to get batteries, I'm digging myself a hole.<br /><br />So as for the Feb 14th challenge I gave myself, I quit! You men win, and those not in my favor (which is the general population right now) Should be packed up and put on a one way shuttle to Saturn, if my luck holds, the shuttle will be built by the UK scientist and get lost like the Beagle! FOR GOOD!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113908258785127265?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1138991099484084672006-02-03T10:16:00.000-08:002006-02-03T10:24:59.503-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/5-simon-helps-jesus-to-carry-his-cross.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/5-simon-helps-jesus-to-carry-his-cross.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The skin. The Blood.<br />I saw. She died.<br />The fire. It burned.<br />The skin.<br />It Burned.<br /><br />The screams. She screamed.<br />The smoke. It smelled.<br />The smell. Was foul.<br />She died. She burned.<br /><br />The dreams. She lives.<br />She dies. She burns.<br />She lives. Again she dies.<br /><br />The meat. Was fried.<br />The onions. The oil.<br />The skin. It fried.<br />The skin. He ate.<br />He ate. Himself.<br /><br />For sins. Not theirs.<br />Their crimes. Not judged.<br />But burn. They did.<br />And burn. They died.<br /><br />For two known victimes of the MaiMai Rebels of Congo.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113899109948408467?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1137878457594019382006-01-21T13:01:00.000-08:002006-01-21T13:27:59.520-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/blakedragonbg.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/blakedragonbg.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I hate the First of February, I feel like Prometheus, every year regrow my expecations just to have them torn down. Bashed three ways from Sunday. I feel like I sit there watching the days fly off the calendar, with increasing speed as that damned day approaches. Then the demon rares it's little head.<br /><p>Swinging from my minds rafters, the little banshee screams 'Long Live Singlehood!' 'Single women rock' And everywhere I look there are couples kissing and hugging as cards go flying left right and off kilter! Save my little soul!</p><p>That demonette hisses as I pass shop windows with there overstuffed oversized blood red hearts beating to cikly romantic boy band lyrics, little did they know that that is the price of falling in love. A ripped out bloody throbbing heart.</p><p>And I'm sure one of these days just to put a silver poker through this demons heart, I'll have a wonderful valentines, no cards, no roses, no dinner restaurants with other annoying couples holding hands and helping the corporate world roll out yet another consumer happy spending report. I'll have a glass of wine, a hug, and a kiss. Maybe some mboga and ugali by candle light just to disprove the fact. In fact I'll even settle for a simple phone call to say,' Today like every other day, I think of you' Somehow even if the demonette wouldn't die painfully, it'll definitely have her going to haunt some other singles bar.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113787845759401938?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1137788060384576082006-01-20T12:03:00.000-08:002006-01-20T12:17:48.633-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/bb1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/bb1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It's been a long day, it started on Monday and just ended today at 4.30pm. To celebrate getting through the ups and downs, the mini tragedies, the life altering decisions and dreams that I hope to realize next week, I indulge myself in this most satisfying practise.<br /><br />In a warm coccoon with the worlds best crooners, I let the week wash out of my bones. I float like the clouds that I have envied all week. I am warmed in the dark of night, as if I had switched on my own personal sun. The universe floats away, the phones stop ringing, the world is at peace here. There are no competitions, save the candles, each trying to out glow the other. A war of relaxing scents assauge my nasal senses. I stop my restless brain almost instantaneously, with a glass of wine. My limbs ease their restless fight with the week, as the wine loosens my body.<br /><br />But the best part is the bubbles. God bless the bubbles, each and every single one of them that comes to my aid, before bursting into a mist of sweet smelling perfume. Each bubble giving my skin a mini massage as they bump into me in their excitement. And this warm cocoon of bubbles lights and scents, sends my mind to oblivion, thus my weekend has officially begun.<br /><br />Have a wonderful weekend.... Happy Friday<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113778806038457608?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1137695944775569802006-01-19T10:36:00.000-08:002006-01-19T10:39:04.800-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/ADDICTION.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/ADDICTION.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I have a new addiction... West African movies... I love them! I can't help it they're thrilling. Interesting . I am currently in the throes of 'Girls in the Hood'!!! Will chat later<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113769594477556980?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1137433000749056392006-01-16T09:35:00.000-08:002006-01-16T10:03:07.023-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Sink_by_ramy.2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/Sink_by_ramy.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p>My Darling James,<br />The usuall niceties will fall short, so I best leave them for another time. Nothing is the same anymore, is it? We've grown older and moved on, or rather you've moved on. The rest of us still plod along just trying to get by, one foot at a time, one step at a time. Did I ever tell you that I thought you were such a star. I could have sworn Eddie Murphy styled himself on you. You could charm the fangs right off a snake! Have the snake hand them over, willingly! My, how you had a way with you. I think about you more these days. I still remember that incident infront of the gate, you rascall! Cat calling after that girl, I can't even remember what she looks like now. Prudence would have insisted she walk faster to get away from you, but with your charming smile, she walked even slower! Deliberately placing each heeled foot infront of the other, sashaying like a true Nubian Queen . Thanks for teaching me how to walk like a chick, because you didn't want to get embarrased, macho man like you teaching he's little cousin how to walk in heels! Like a magician you summoned up a manequin and made it walk. But she did turn the tables on you, got you by the cojones, that was the last time you cat called in front of the gate! </p><p>You never lost your temper, you always had time to play with me. You helped me with my homework. And even when you were having your serious boy conversations you never shooed me off, aren't I glad that now I can talk like one of the boys, yet be a total chick and bat my eyelashes. You taught me how to be charming, to say no and make it sound like the best favor I could do anyone, yet say yes and send them right over the moon. I wish you'd stuck around for the how to dump a guy, I really needed that lesson, I bungled it up badly!</p><p>In truth, thank you for being the best biggest brother ever! I'm sorry I didn't make it home. I thought I could reach you in time, but you didn't wait. I know why, but it doesn't make not saying goodby to you any easier. I love you and miss you every day.</p><p></p><p>James was my elder cousin, he died of AIDS before he's 30th Birthday. That was the last funeral I didn't attend. Glove up boys, I ain't burryin' no more of you!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113743300074905639?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1136999651604253752006-01-11T08:58:00.000-08:002006-01-11T09:14:11.623-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/pot%20stirring.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/pot%20stirring.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />You stir,<br />They stir,<br />Potatoes and Flesh<br />Boiling and nothing less<br />Into your pot you throw spices from foreign lands<br />You stir<br />They stir<br /><br />You stir,<br />They stir,<br />'Double Double Toil and Trouble',<br />Nothing you see is safe from the pot,<br />Rabbits and rats scurry in fear<br />While the cows and goats kick up a frothy soup,<br />You stir,<br />They Stir<br /><br />You stir,<br />They Stir,<br />Potatoes bump, mushy lumps<br />The pease and tomatoes run circles round each other,<br />Here comes the curry, spreadding peppery fire rounds the pot<br />What next?<br />You Stir?<br />They Stir?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113699965160425375?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1136750391522631202006-01-08T11:17:00.000-08:002006-01-19T10:25:32.946-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/honey_i_can_explain.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/honey_i_can_explain.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Just needed to lighten up a little. The person that came up with this idea has probably used this line more times than they care to count! Talk about being caught out!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113675039152263120?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1135690405845505532005-12-27T04:55:00.000-08:002005-12-27T05:39:46.263-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/sorry.3.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/sorry.1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'm taking in the year at large and some choice moments come up as the most hilarious moments known to my existence. First there is how I met my best bud. In way of introduction there it has been the accepted norm that there are two kinds of people, those who watch things happen, and those who make things happen, Drama Queen ( my best bud) and I have managed to prove that there are those who are smack in the middle of the two groups. No matter how well planned and bullet proof the occasion, something always happens. Most likely we haven't figured out that time will not bend to our wishes, (it's early yet, stranger things have happened!) On the first day of our graduate course we were the first and only international students ( in the history of the class) to miss the coach for our field trip (which was weighted only because it was our first assignment!!!!) fresh off the banana boat, not knowing the back end of England from the front, we got on a train and were waiting for the rest of the class at the site! Oh yes we set precedent alright! Even though we were half petrified of ending up in Plymough instead of Didcot, met a man dressed like a leprichaun, and managed to charm the train ticket master into overlooking our tickets going in the wrong direction.... we made it. Let's just say we introduced our very starchy, and extremly english advisor to the finer elements of international time.... 5 minutes and an hour same difference ;D<br /><br /><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/sorry.0.jpg" border="0" />Of course then there's the fact that I must be the only person to get dug out of mud by an excavator! I work on a construction site and would you know it I got stuck in mud. I'd been doing pretty well getting out of scrapes that my boss seemed to find amusing to get me into. I'm new meat... it goes with the territory, what can I say? Well I've been there three months and nothing had stuck, ok maybe a little (there was the instead with painting the wrong house, but that's another story) So here was he's big chance, the year was ending and I was going to get off scott free, yeah right. Lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he'd given up, I was only too happy to do he's bidding, very simple really.... go close the gate. Now the gate he had in mind isn't really a gate more like a panel of fencing that we use to secure the site (litigation reasons) and since some of the guys couldn't be bothered to walk all the way out of the site to the shop on the other side of the fence, they slip through the fence. There was a path that had led to and from the site through the fence, all I had to do was follow this path...right? Well the funny thing about construction is nothing stays the same, what was there an hour ago... ain't! Well I knew where the swamp bog was (deep muddy pond that accummulated water when raining) so I thought I was safe. Lucky for my boss the ground workers had started filling the foundations around the swamp bog, everything was now nice and level, thanks to the previous nights rain, the digger operator had no problems smoothing everything over and making it look nice and flat and safe... So going out there I think, 'Oh this is nice, I just have to walk in a stright line towards the gate/panel and secure it', everything was fine, terra firma was in my favour, until I got to the point of no return. I was half way to the gate and right at the edge of the now filled in swamp pond. What I thought was firm ground turned out to be filled up (in other words worked up to a find dough texture) swamp pond! I was sinking into the very cold mud very quickly! I'm now up to my boots (midcalf!) In my haste I was taking large steps and my legs were now stuck at 110 degree angle. I had two options, I could either fall foward, or I could fall backwards, getting out of my boots, with socks Godwilling, and try and crawl on my belly to firmer ground! Considering which option would be less embarrasing, I hear guffaws of painful laughter, the digger operator was literally weeping! After a good five minutes...i'm not sinking any slower! He decided to come to my rescue. Bringing the digger over to where I'm standing the operator advises me to ditch my boots and step into the digger (slopping all over with mud). He then manouvers the digger closer to my first boot, crouching on the digger floor and using both hands I manage to pull the first boot out, then closer to the other boot, I manage to pull it out as well, and in the process introducing my bottom to the muddy digger floor! My shame is complete. I look like I was mud wrestling with the gate. The digger operator brings me closer to the gate I hop out of the digger, shut the damned gate.... hop back on the digger and am placed back on firm ground. As for my boss, lets just say he had a wonderful vantage point and was selling front row tickets, he's office faces said gate! He was smilling all of the two weeks to Christmas break, I'm surprised he's face didn't split in half.<br />But the new year will bring with it new challenges and more embarrasing situations, and just when I think I got the hang of it!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113569040584550553?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1135480758734585032005-12-24T18:48:00.000-08:002005-12-24T19:22:34.263-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/sorry.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/sorry.1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'm not exactly sorry. Strange how it is that you know and I know that you know. But because you doubt yourself, the thought hovers over your mind like a ghost. You have outbursts of temper because you're not sure. You see him and the feeling is increased tenfold, could it be? Maybe the way they look at each other, the way their hands linger. You notice that when we say hello our kisses are more intimate, we're enjoying each momment.<br />You compare notes, he' s physique to yours, he' stature, the way he carries himself...he seems so sure. What is it that has him sit so confidently across from you? You want to know if he's the one, if something happened... I could tell you or I could just watch you torment yourself. You lash out, but say sorry because I don't seem to care anymore. I'm preoccupied, but not with thoughts of you. I don't share my thoughts with you anymore. The cost of my thoughs just went up.<br />I'll tell you, for in a thousand years you'll never ask.... Yes, yes to everything about him. I have no regrets and I realy don't care if you walked out that door and didn't come back. I have been loved, my wishes and desires have been granted. My thoughts have been held as if jewels in shakespear's fabled ethiops ear. I can die happy, now knowing that I have been loved, that I am loved. And you selfish, conceited, self centered narcissistic pig, are now the object of my pity. Every time I look at you I feel moved by pity. Your idea of love is to have me orbit about you and your every need. I'm not sure I care to put up with you for pity's sake anymore. Everyone deserves happiness, in some countries it's a constitutional right. When I say 'so long sucker...' I won't be sorry to see the back of you. Most important of all....I am not sorry, not now, not ever, for stumbling on love so inappropriately.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113548075873458503?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1134214147668760862005-12-10T03:13:00.000-08:002005-12-10T03:33:17.353-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/grad_Cat.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/grad_Cat.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />My birthday was superfab!!! I was at salsa from 7.00pm to 3.00am in the morning!!! SWEET!!! There was a live band (hot guitarist and percusionist/drama...whatever) I didn't know how much dancing I did till I walk up the next mornintg and was limping around the apartment!!! feeling excessively sorry for myself.... didn't wake up until noon and even then my body was not in any mood to be taken out anywhere, which is sad as I meant to go to the movies, instead we let Bleak House on BBC 1 take us away. I got a box of chocolates from a colleague at work and have hated her ever since... I mean that I now loathe the woman! How dare she? My one weakness is chocolates, (ok I lie, one of my weaknesses is chocolate, it's in the major league list) I can't say no to them, and I can't throw them, and we're talking about one of those big ass tins...apparently that's where the chocolate will be settling :(<br /><br />Today however, is my graduation. So knowing myself I'll be doing a mad dash out of the house like a cat on a waxed wood floor running to get out the door. Because I know I'm going to be late but I'm not doing anything about it.... I'm thinking the red pants with the white halter neck should be the thing but then we have to line up outside and we all know the effects of cold on women...I don't think I want any pointers showing in my graduation pictures!!!!<br />So we'll have to ponder the wardrobe for at least 15 mins. Then tonight I'm going to shoot for the moon, alcoholicly... Once a year it's aloud and so I saved my birthday tribute for today, and that goes to prove that I do think ahead when it comes to important issues such as innubriation!<br />Ok people, time for me to skidadle.<br /><br />If I'm really good maybe Santa will get me a new computer, let's all hold our breaths.<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">DISCLAIMER: IN THE EVENT THAT ANY INDIVIDUAL TOOK THE ABOVE LAST SENTENCE LITERALLY AND HELD THEIR BREATH THIS BLOG AND ANY MEMBER ASSOCIATED WITH IT CANNOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR THE INDIVIDUALS EVENTUAL AND ASSURED COLLAPSE, AS ANY MEMBER ASSOCIATED WITH THIS BLOG IS GENETICALLY INCAPABLE OF BEING GOOD.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113421414766876086?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1133217703420745392005-11-28T14:41:00.000-08:002005-11-28T14:41:43.486-08:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/74635/273856.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113321770342074539?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1132255719463057472005-11-17T11:11:00.000-08:002005-11-17T11:33:18.706-08:00First a brifest of hello's because I simply must rant and rave....next my disclaimer: in the event that I should so happen to insult the human male species...EAT MY PANTS!!!!<br />I cannot believe the nerve of you men (I am not in the mood of picking the apples from the pebbles so....SUFFER my wrath)!!! Where does the ijit get the nerve? Not only am I emotional road kill, can you say rank?!?!?!? I am seriously not in the mood for geting into a relationship with any male baffoon! (NICKY YOU SO MUCH AS GET THE WRONG IDEA I WILL HURT YOU DEAD....not bad, dead!)<br />Ok fine, I was doing fine! getting back on my two feet, getting my hair done, nails did, the whole kit and keboodle! But Hell No! I couldn't be left alone after being run over by a 10 ton semi! (emotionally folks...work with me!) He had to flipping reverse to make sure that I was dead!!! He called me today out of the blue, and I do mean blue as we ( me, myself and my 10 other personalities) had taken the necessary steps of deleting the number from all three phone ( don't go there Nicky......) So to crown my more than shitty day, which started last week Monday and is promising not to get done until tomorrow 6.00pm...he called! What next? To tell me what,... 'I didn't want to make enemies....so I thought I'd do the honourable thing and call.....' WHO THE?!?!?!....WHAT THE??!??! Whattaya mean?? Can you spell it out....you thought you'd do the right thing? The right thing would have been picking up the bloody phone two months ago and telling me it's over, you know, CIAO, your ass has been officially dumped !!! Yeah that writing on the wall I got, loud and abso-freaking-lutely clear...<br />So now that I can't remember your darned number, I pick up the phone!And you though I'd what?...hung up! HAH! You obviously haven't met my Mother...she'd lay me out! (and in my sunday best to boot) for being rude. So of course I let you do the "manly" thing and tell me how you don't want to make an enemy, what kind of self obsessed, narcissistic idiot are you?? Let me explain in simple english:<br />No, you're not my enemy, never have been. I couldn't possibly hate you. I couldn't be bothered, as far as I'm concerned you're not worthy of my contempt, my animosity and now that I've gotten over the rude shock, my angry inner voice. Like I said...Oh Well! If you thought that meant your number get's added back to my spead dial, out of cruel interest, like that of holding a magnifying glass over an ant...Hold your breath!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-113225571946305747?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1129930623978808392005-10-21T14:37:00.000-07:002005-10-21T14:37:04.020-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/74635/257952.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112993062397880839?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1129370480870480312005-10-15T02:48:00.000-07:002005-10-15T03:01:20.886-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/home_photo.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/home_photo.jpg" border="0" /></a> Spending the weekend in bed was wonderful. Saturday morning it rained, so the gods were very much into my mix ! It was a grey day so I had all the curtains of the room flung open and was revelling in my luck not to have to be anywere, or see anyone...don't get me wrong I adore my freinds, but I just needed to recouperate at the end of the week. I read in bed, wrote up my notes in bed andhad a cup of tea and watched television....in bed!!!!!<br />I have to thank the bed as well, it's a queen sleigh bed that was raised halfway off the floor High enough that when sitting on the edge my feet never touched the ground! Fluffy duvet that seemed to be alive.... in a good way!!!! (so help me... Nicky get your mind out of the gutter!!!) It was perfect no pulling or yanking it or fluffing it down because I couldn't see the TV over it. Anne Rice gave me a spectacular thrill so that I wasn't in a hurry to go running about and wanted to find out what happened next to Lestat, who isn't exactly my favorite one of all, but, if I had to have company he'd do.<br />Mhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmm I would do it again, maybe in another couple of months.... But next time it will be quite the production....Breakfast in bed!!!!! I just have to find a willing victim to make the breakfast. First things first I have to get through four months of my very strict diet.... no back sliding or hanging about temptation! THEN....carefully find a chef (wink wink nudge nudge) and have English sausages, bacon, 1 egg- sunny side up, brown toast, and a cuppa (preferrably of coffee....) all in bed :D Well the challenge is on! Feb 15 2006 sounds like D-day!<br />wish me luck<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112937048087048031?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1128704757210343222005-10-07T09:49:00.000-07:002005-10-07T10:09:29.266-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/IMG_7415.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/IMG_7415.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Hello Happy People!<br />It's Friday! Well if you're a little behind the times and Friday hasn't gotten to your end of the world....BOOOYAH sucks to be yah!<br />So what does this mean, ideally that I shall not wake from slumber untill 9.00am, and there will be no guilt attached to it whatsoever! Then I shall roll over, plump the pillows and go back to sleep... ahhhh the thought is tantalizing. If the gods are in my favour they'll make it rain! Could it get any better, you're in bed, it's cold outside and rainy, and some sorry sod had to go to work... (Ok! Alright...you feel sorry for the sod for 5 mins, then you think...Hey they could always get another job... guilt trip over..see how easy that was? now go back to bed!)<br />When I finally get up...get a cup of tea... go back to bed, read a newspaper, while in bed... All things rotate around the bed till I remember that the lady running the bed and breakfast is running an experiment to see how fat I can get before I leave! Notice how the doors of the house are all double panelled to make it easier to remove overly large bodies from it? (refer to above left picture....just in case you need help) This lady's breakfast is lethal, a gastronomical 1-2 punch that Mohammed Ali would have to bow down to! I'm tellying yah, there wouldn't be any stinging bee business going on... it's an undisputed TKO!<br />I'll probably walk around the area, and this is not only to try and undo some of the damage done by the breakfast but to preserve the horses from the riding school, you don't see the darn animals until it's too late! Stupid Beasts! And it's not like the road is wide...Oh Heck no! it's a rinky dinky country road where the cars have to squeeze by at the bends, or someone reverses to the bend a.k.a Polite English Road Chicken! Sheesh... Of course the horse saunters off looking back as if to say... 'Yeah go ahead, make my day, take me on! how do you like that hood ornament on your windscreen?' While I'm on the topic... IN THIS DAY AND AGE IS IT NECESSARY TO RIDE A HORSE???!!!! what's the motor vehicle for? at least a car's not going to take off in another direction simply because it saw great grazing ground!<br />Right where was I?<br />Yes....sleeping my weekend in...I'll tell you how it was next week ;)<br />l8r g8r's<br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112870475721034322?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1128161968296264802005-10-01T03:02:00.000-07:002005-10-01T04:25:51.620-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/buzzard.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/buzzard.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />OK this really gets my goat!<br />You know there are those freinds of yours that have a knack to call you when you're asleep, doesn't matter what time, just whenever your head hits the pillow, you've fallen straight asleep, y'know , hit the sweet spot. And because this person annoys you, you give them the most annoying ring tone, ensuring that you are thus rudely, and completely woken up! And to add salt to injury, they then say, 'Sorry, Ok go back to sleep!' what the ... expletive... expletive! You already woke me up just get on with it!!!!<br /><br />No...! these buggers are waiting, just biding their time till they can wake you up again, it's a cruel joke.<br />So now I've worked out a plan, don't have any sort of phone next to me when I'm sleeping. That way you get annoyed when you miss a call that you wouldn't have minded waking up for, esp. if you can score brownie points with the guy you're trying to get to help you move your stuff!!!! That freshly you've woken me up voice and you can imagine that I was dreaming of watching you pop your biceps as you move oodles of boxes, of course I'll help... I'll bring out the lemondade :o)<br />And guys with rude phone etiquette! You know you're out there don't pretend! You're phone rings, you pick it up only after a healthy jab in the ribs... and then proceed to hold a loud play by play commentary of las weeks collge game with your Buddy in ...wherever! Like I wasn't there...take your phone and hit the stepping preferably in the direction of the kitchen where you make something that elicits immediate forgiveness.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112816196829626480?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1128123947544993792005-09-30T16:30:00.000-07:002005-09-30T16:53:19.580-07:00Ok,<br />I have not been putting up any literal blogs because of the lack of technology in Newcastle....GRRRRRRRR!<br />Do I miss my internet or what.<br />Hello Lovely People!<br />Yes it appears that the only way I can communicate with my blogs is on weekends andby audioblogs.<br /><br />As for Newcastle-under-lyme....it's wonderfully different. Apparently you can get anywhere in the UK once you master the art of going round a round-about. Annoying things, that pop up even in the middle of highway's how irksome is that?<br /><br />I am however enjoying my new lease on life. My very special someone is going to be OK. Thanks to all of you for your advise, let's just say I've never been so worried in my whole entire life. My special someone is my Dad. It's nearly cliche how people call their Dad's hero's... my Dad is Superman. Not that it's made me the best Dperson in the world, but the word no is a foreign concept. Let's just say a guy telling me no, is like a pig in flight!!!ain't gonna happen, I don't understand, whadaya mean, what are you talking about? Anyway back to point at hand. My dad was in hospital with a pulmonary embolism, whatever the heck it it is. All I k now is that he's less than sterling vulture relatives were circling, and when relas circle, there's a dead body afoot.<br />And the doctor was only shocked as to why my dad wasn't dead yet (some doctor!) And the idea of living life without my Dad was not on! This whole week I have walked around like a zombie, my main though being how I could get home to my Dad.<br />It's true that we base our expectations on previous occurences, I expect to be the center of attention, because that's what I got from my Dad, 100% even when I was dotting... :) So I'm glad that he's going to be fine. The world woudn't be right without my superhero. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/pp-personalized-father-daughter.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/pp-personalized-father-daughter.jpg" border="0" /></a>(Psychologists....back off this blog...we don't do Freud!)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112812394754499379?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1127935248319435482005-09-28T12:20:00.000-07:002005-09-28T12:20:48.326-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/74635/247708.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112793524831943548?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1127933594965906942005-09-28T11:53:00.000-07:002005-09-28T11:53:14.973-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/74635/247688.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112793359496590694?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1127851707277901962005-09-27T13:08:00.000-07:002005-09-27T13:08:29.460-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/74635/247147.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112785170727790196?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1127343326369584552005-09-21T15:54:00.000-07:002005-09-21T15:55:26.376-07:00I cut my hair, I've never had short hair in my life. Don't know how I feel about it yet. Maybe I should invest in a do-rag.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112734332636958455?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1127216490735884952005-09-20T03:19:00.000-07:002005-09-20T13:52:23.706-07:00Well, if your body does not respond to the polite stimuli provided by your bladder, then the bladder takes matters into it's own hand and the fear of embarrasment is nigh!<br />Vigilante bladders have been known to cause their owners all kinds of discomfort. The best form is that of the 'Toilet/Piipii/Potty/WiiWii/Gottago- dance' ( abbreviated as TPPWG for the sake of my typing fingers). I don't think there is a single human, save the guards outside Buckingham palace, who does not have their own form of the dance. It is assumed that no two dances are the same, some victims go for the cross over, this is when one foot is tightly crossed at the crotch, over the other foot, the participant then performs a repetitive jerky squat like motion to the sweet musical stimulus of the TPPWG-dance.<br /><br />Others prefer to bounce on their heels,whilst in the cross over position, gently, trying to minimize any rapid movemoent to their bladder that may cause an uncontrolable onslaught of relief. In the cross over, victims may other tightly shut their eyes in order to visualize at tightened sphincter muscle (personally I think it's to avoid screaming out in pain!!!) Or their eyes are wide open with a wild glint in them, the latter I'm sure are promising themselves to surrender their bladder at the pearly gates ASAP upon their arrival there. (I don't think the<br />TPPWG has ever been, in any ancient texts, attributed to heavenly devotion of a deity)<br /><br />We move to the pacer, this victim of the TPPWG will walk up and down in a tightly controlled line, the effect of increased stimuli is seen in the increasing speed with which they make each lap, of course due to the unrelenting torture of the TPPWG, they soon break out into a a gentle trot, as a full dash is only acceptable if a receptacle for the relief is found, some men after frequenting pints at a bar are now masters at using their 'point-and-shoot to write their names in the snow/dirt, therefore the term receptacle is open to transalation!<br /><br />Enter the tap dancer, this victim normaly calm and unfidgety breaks into a riendition of someting performed by Sammy Davis Junior or Gregory Heinz! Their feet furiously keeping the rhythm to their bladders tune... a tempo that only grows faster with the intensity of the desire for relief. You may pick out these victims by their highly muscled calves (some have been called football/soccer players, but these studies are incomplete).<br /><br />Let's not forget the knee-knockers! These happless victims of the TPPWG are the 'hunchback of Notredame' as far as the dance go. They are ungainly and ungraceful and their height relative to the floor is decreased when the pain is exquisite and least bearable. But you gotta love them for all in all, they're just trying to save themselves the embarassment, even though in doing so all coolness is thrown out the window. But the bladder is an equalizer of coolness, for all dance style victims when the worst bouts of torture occur, will forego all decorum and provide physical assistance to their failing anti-bladder muscles.<br /><br />The bladder is also a clever strategist, upon being unable to withstand the TPPWG any longer some victims are broken to the point that they are willing to walk into the most unsanitized porcelain relief aids known in the world! Of course we have different classsification of bladders, namely:<br />1) Nike Class: just do it<br />2) Paris Hilton: Only the hilton<br />3) Country Western: shoot first ask questions later (prefferred in some cultures where Calvin-errant men run around pii-ing in full view of unsuspecting witnesses...Now I must say that I find this sub-classification of the 'country-western' most brazen and a vermin to polite society! )<br />4) Commando bladders<br /><br />The Nike Class will get on with the task at hand by performing zen like controll on their minds to compare the benefits of the relief and to ignore the onslought to their other sensory organs from the unsanitized procelain (if they're lucky) receptacles in dodgey location (in some coutnries grass roots biological war lords used said receptacles as munition bankers!! Weapons were used to relieve victims of their hard earned cash!)<br /><br />The Paris Hilton bladder is cruel, on having been informed of the nature of the porcelain relief aid by their olfactory and optical senses, this bladder immediately retreats all known stimuli, sending up trumptet blasts of relief to the victims nether regions. Of course the victim thankfully and hastily retreats from the offending un-hilton porcelain relief aid. However upon receiving stimuli from the brain that the hilton or such like relief aid is in view this bladder is ruthless, one will find dignified women (read Mama's) who will never walk faster than waltz cruising at speeds of an ABBA tamborine to the acceptable relief aid, all thoughts of maintaining their dignity forgotten.<br /><br />The cowboys of the bladder classification are definitely the Country Westerns, these bladders do not care for social norms on relieving one self. They find any location (most prefer greenery as they think they are perfoming some environmental duty of turning vegetation gold, why wait for fall in an eqautorial climate??), their victims swager to said location and relieve themselves... aaaaaah! A word must be said for the traveller who having been caught between the land of no return seeks shelter behind a bush to politely handle the cause of the speeding ticket!<br /><br />All bladders not being created equal, only makes us more diverse as human beings. We have heard earlier of the commando bladders (remember the buckingham palace guards), that have undergone rigorous training from their owners (note: in most cases it is the bladders that own their victims...), stand to attention, and only reply when they are commanded too. Bow down to men in uniform who have to perform the dangerous duty of handling bladders and other unruly inhabitants of earth! (ALRIGHT! I'm partial to men in uniform I had to find a way to fit them in somehow!!)<br /><br />So feel free to participate in the bladder study by informing all and sundry whether you wear<br />1) tighty whities<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/petesunderware.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/petesunderware.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />boxers<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/280.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 106px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 104px" height="128" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/280.jpg" width="154" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />mothers' union<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/underwear-imat2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="139" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/200/underwear-imat2.jpg" width="124" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />and g-strings/ thongs<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Thongs300.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/200/Thongs300.jpg" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112721649073588495?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1126655262113353762005-09-13T16:40:00.000-07:002005-09-13T16:55:27.426-07:00While talking on the phone to my future employer the fine whistle of nature called. Of course this is not such a startling event, the kicker comes in the creative thinking that is applied to inform the gentleman, that as I am driving I need to hang up and call him later when I have parked the car,needless to say I was nowhere within sight of my vehicle. It appears that I can now park a car in 1 minute flat!<br />But then it occurred to me, how many boardroom meetings have been cut short or how many decisions have been made simply for the victim to indulge in a little tinkle to satisfy that urge, that literally builds up in the nether regions of the body to the point where all mental thought or the excercise there of is a fragment of the imagination?<br />One minute you're sitting down all self assured, the next minute, you've identified that feeling. It starts out slowly as little whisper to the brain. You ignore it, you can still pay attention to the conversation at hand. The whisper turns into a definite but polite 'Ahem...', your brain lenga's, it's not so bad, just shift your position on the chair to relieve some of the pressure on the bladder. Conversation looses some interest.<br />Your nether regions seeing that no action is being taken, brings on the blitz, for all you footbal fans you know what this means, it's Brett Favre getting sacked by a group of three 350 pounders...(ASIDE: it's about time he hung he's helmet up....he's turning into the token old dude on the packers team)<br /><br />The exquisite torture begins, we're not talking about the itch between your shoulder blades at the exact spot that you can't reach.<br />(To be continued....)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112665526211335376?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1126637087846462132005-09-13T11:30:00.000-07:002005-09-13T11:44:47.856-07:00This was written by a gentleman named Hawi in a group email. I dont even know him. If anybody is wondering why we are voting No, and not just because oranges taste better than bananas, here goes.<br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />Wako and his group of conmen took the draft to Kilifi and turned it into achild's play. It is a very cruel joke on poverty stricken Kenyans. It is apity that after a polished academician in the name of Yash Pal Ghai tooktime to come up with something really serious and admirable, some childishfellow Africans can actually take and turn the whole thing into a childishprank. At this rate we shall never get out of our poverty. Not now, not inthe near future. Look at it this way :<br />1. The reason people of Kenya wanted a new constitution was to clip thepowers of the President which had been abused in the past. Has this Wakodraft done that ? No it has in fact enhanced it. For example whereas beforeit was impossible to garner 65% majority vote in parliament required toimpeach the President, you now require 75%. Who asked for this ?<br />2. The introduction of religious (not Kadhi's) courts is the sickest jokeWako could ever have come up with. We all know that our courts are based onEnglish common law which is Christian in origin. How is it practical againto have a Christian court ?<br /> 3. Whereas it is true that there is a lot gained in terms of civil rights,women's equality, culture, citizenship etc, these rights will nevertranslate into reality until the President stops being the Emperor and Queenof us all. In any case, those rights were entrenched, not by Wako, but byBoma's draft.<br />4. Devolution of power to the grassroots level has been whitewashed by Wako'draft as it has taken away the structures that would have ensured thatdevolution works to the advantage of the local villager in the remotest orany part of Kenya.<br />5. The height of conmanship comes clearly across when the President tells usthat the provincial structure will remain intact while the Wako bill andKiraitu (on TV) clearly state otherwise.6. The whole process of constitution making is flawed because<br />:a) It has not been participatory and democratic from beginning to the end(Wanjiku, Asha, Nanjala and Otieno have not been involved in every stage)<br />b) The current constitution does not cater for it.c) It is therefore an exercise in futility that will no bear any fruit. All thepoliticians know this.<br />Yet after wasting Sh4.5 billion, they are willing to go to the polls and waste another Sh2.5 billion. All for nothing.Two things will happen. The NO vote will carry through as Kenyans are notwilling to be conned again. If it does, we will be back to square one. Theonly redeeming thing is that we will have an excuse to start another processof constitution making. Secondly, a judge will stop the whole processthrough a court order. Again we will be back to square one. So even before we discuss culture gains in the constitution, we need to askourselves whether it is worth talking about if the whole process is flawed. I will vote NO. I ask you to go and vote that day, if it ever comes. It isyour right to vote. But know that there will be no new constitution comes in December. Regards<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112663708784646213?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1126555478698908032005-09-12T13:00:00.000-07:002005-09-12T13:04:38.700-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/Alien%20v2%20-Gray-.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/Alien%20v2%20-Gray-.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />9) He pulls out your chair at a table, thinking that it's for him, you quickly run to get another one before he's buddy sits on it!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112655547869890803?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1126483429088482352005-09-11T16:26:00.000-07:002005-09-11T17:49:16.153-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/DSCI0005.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/200/DSCI0005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Ok I got tagged by <a href="://saurabhsworld.blogspot.com/">the little gremlin </a>... so, I hereby spill my guts, in a well oragnized and machinated swill!!!!<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;">Down Memory Lane and a Few Stops....</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:0;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:0;">10 Years Ago</span></strong><br />I was brain dead at an all girls school (don't get me wrong I'm sure girls are academicaly challenging the school however was not mentally challenging!) of good repute. Where the religio-academic regime tortured soals with fire and brimtsone, and whatever was left of the soul was squuezed out of the parents' pocket under the guise of school fees and other money laundering requirements! Let's just say a school that teaches you how to be a lady and doesn't encourage sports ought to be banned...but hey I know all the rules, and exactly how to bend or break them as I please.<br /><br /><strong>5 Years Ago</strong><br />I was mentally overstimulated at a Uni in the midwest, (Geezus! may I never see snow again!) The great thing is there was a 10:1 ratio, guys to gals....hehehe! My kinda school! Between working and keeping up a sorority social life (I am now certified to drink any frat boy under the table and back again!! See, ain't college edumacational??) and keeping my grades up so that I could stay in the sorority and keep my job, I slept :D!<br /><br /><strong>1 Year Ago</strong><br />I was working on a construction job site not loving my job, the guys were great save one, the project manager, who couldn't get a long with himself if you gave him a map! I'm a pretty easy going kinda person, but this guy was so uptight and up himself he came out on the other side! It didn't help that he's personality suffered physical altitude sickness on account of him needing a step stool to get to he's desk. But I bare him no grudges, all I hope is that when he finally joins the SBB (Saggin Ball Brigades, where all balls go when attacked by gravity) that he should also suffer an itchy butt! (Confucious said, rightly or wrongly, 'he who sleeps with an itchy butt, wakes up with smelly fingers!)<br /><br /><strong>Yesterday</strong><br />Went swimming in an overly chlorinated pool, nursed a migraine afterwards, talked to the current object of my affection (recently remastered and digitized to a taller hunkier yummy dude who will be awarded a Nobel Prize as soon as the category is created ;) basically different from the last current object of my affection!) Watched CSI...the original, mhmmmmmm! Love it!<br />And then went to bed.<br /><br /><strong>'A few of my favorite things'</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>5 Places I would run to:</strong><br />Kenya, Papua New Guinea, France, Key West, Borneo<br /><p><strong>5 Things I would never wear:<br /></strong>brown, mothers' union uinderwear, ice white lipstick, bald head, miniskirt</p><p><strong>5 Favorite shows:<br /></strong>M*A*S*H, All Law a& Order Series, CSI, CSI Miami, CSI New York</p><p><strong>5 Things to do with $100 Million:<br /></strong>First, die of shock! Invest and Never have to work again, Pursue whatever my heart desires, Give to HIV childrens charities and children education charities</p><p><strong>5 greates joys:<br /></strong>Getting my own way<br />Giving Presents<br />Receiving Presents<br />Cooking Dinner and Entertaining Close Freinds<br />Reading<br /><br /><strong>5 Songs I know the words to:<br /></strong>'Every body hates me...I'm going to the garden to eat warms'<br />'Everbody wants to be a a cat'<br />'Saving all my love' (Sounds best in bathroom acoustics)<br />All my Sorority Songs!!!<br />'Don't Funk with my heart'</p><p><strong>5 Snacks<br /></strong>Chocolate, Dark Chocolate, Cadbury's Jamaican Rum Chocolate, Cadbuyr's Fruit &amp; Nut Chocolate, Mars Ice cream bars</p><p><strong>The Tag continues:</strong><br /><a href="http://nicholasgichu.blogspot.com/">Nicki Baby </a><br /><a href="http://saurabhsworld.blogspot.com/">S! tagged your sorry behind...again! and you better spill your guts!! Any Question Nicki wants</a> My freind revenge is best served cold :d<br /><a href="http://msaniixl.com/">Shu's Rep aka Msanii_XL </a>Nothing Personal Babes! But still Curious!<br /><br /></p><strong></strong><strong></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112648342908848235?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1126127931798954652005-09-07T14:10:00.000-07:002005-09-07T14:28:54.766-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/lwf1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/lwf1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />1) You go out for dinner and the guy pays the bill without asking you if you wanted to go dutch (at which point he wonders if your feeling well when he sees the look of utter shock on your face!)<br />2) You're feeling cold and he gives you he's jacket to wear (you keep asking him if he's feeling well or if he's coming down with something!)<br />3) He opens the door for you and you think it's a trick! He's true intention is to actually get you smashed between the door jamb....! Of course you rush in and he wonders where the fires at<br />4) He gives you he's arm and you think he's trying to elbow you!<br />5) He walks you to the door and doesn't try and get more than a kiss goodnight, or ask for a chocolate chocolate chip to go with he's coffee<br />6) He's eyes wonder yes, but not to the point of acute whiplash (after all he's a guy, granted...)<br />7) And this is the most imortant differentiating characteristic if I ever heard of one; when he says he'll call you tonight, it's not the same night 3 decades from that date!!!!!<br />8) Last but not least, there is no such word as later in he's vocabulary!<br />I dare any one of you to find what time later is, I don't care if it's zulu time, 24 hour clock, whatever you show me later!!!!( the person who created that word probably met Santa!!!!)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112612793179895465?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1125854444720392942005-09-04T10:14:00.000-07:002005-09-05T04:41:45.356-07:00Santa runs true to form....SHU will not be performing in London. I have therefore no option but to place a dead or alive wanted notice for that good for nothing, dissappointing, lower than pond scum perp!<br />Over and Out<br />P.S Anyone know of a union for elves, starter kit needed at the north pole!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112585444472039294?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1125795156682378622005-09-03T17:52:00.000-07:002005-09-03T17:52:36.686-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/74636/238083.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112579515668237862?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1125454528432930422005-08-30T19:07:00.000-07:002005-08-30T19:17:08.256-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/madness-in-freeport.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/madness-in-freeport.jpg" border="0" /></a> It's 3.00 am in the morning and I want to sleep. I think I've been asleep for a while but I don't remember, I weave in and out of consciousness... at one point I know my dissertation responded to me during a conversation we were having; it seemed amused, and when I said I may have bit more than I could chew...it's opened up a cavernous mouth that seemed to open it up onto itself, turning it inside out, guts and glory. That's the point I decided to lay off the proplus, damn things are supposed to keep you awake, rational is not included in the prescription (apparently the dosage does not include sanity...)I'll be glad when this is done and I can relax with a bottle of martini rosso, and none of that cheap stuff either!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112545452843293042?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1125453980218295432005-08-30T19:04:00.000-07:002005-08-30T19:18:58.323-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/xmas00.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/xmas00.jpg" border="0" /></a> I just need a bit of a cuddle, a nice big bear hug, to make everything ok... :(<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112545398021829543?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1125047341321545152005-08-26T02:09:00.000-07:002005-08-26T02:09:01.363-07:00<div class="audblog"><a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/74636/234182.mp3" class="audLink"><img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112504734132154515?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1124934093075291872005-08-24T18:36:00.000-07:002005-08-25T03:08:15.533-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/PhoenixFirecard.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/PhoenixFirecard.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Today which is in fact tomorrow, I have to tell someone no. I have to find a way to tell this person the truth, I can't possibly commit to what they're asking me to do. After reading my own blog I find that maybe fact is much easier to handle for all parties, because, as much as I'd like to be cruel I cannot bring myself to do it. They don't deserve it, because it finally is my fault... and I'm going to have to find a way to take the blame for it without having it sound like ' it's not you but it really is you' because it really isn't...if that made sense...you must have taken your medication. Either way I'm losing sleep over it.<br />What's up with all this self prophesying business??!! I could do without it. But I'll keep the SHU concert tickets, thank you very much.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112493409307529187?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1124889136922026402005-08-24T05:59:00.000-07:002005-08-24T06:43:46.666-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/studiocouch.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/400/studiocouch.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I'm just about bow legged with delerium (ok more than usual!) I think Christmas just came early. I feel like a kid in a candy store! Some ball gums, some big-G's, patco's, eclairs, murray mints, and top it off with goodygoody's! But this is much, much better than a sugar high! OK I'll get to the point....<br /><span style="font-size:180%;">SHU!!! SHU!!!</span><span style="font-size:78%;">(I am not virtual sneezing)</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">This man is the next best thing since sliced bread...BELIEVE IT!</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Ladies and some gentlemen </span><span style="font-size:78%;">(and you know who I'm talking about!)</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span>...SHU is Coming to LONDON!!!!<br />Thursday, September 29th, 2005<br />London UK </span><br />See, Santa does exist.. of course now I'm expecting the trimmings...but this time I'm sooo willing to settle.<br />ok not that I want to share but for those of you who are at home and do not need reading glasses:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;color:#6633ff;">Tuesday, September 20th, 2005<br />Nairobi Kenya</span><br /><br />Yipppeeee! OK Msanii...big love to you too! you deserve an award for plugging SHU and other up coming artists.<br />Check out he's website:<a href="http://www.shusic.com/calendar.html">http://www.shusic.com/calendar.html</a> and he's video<a href="http://www.shusic.com/links.html">http://www.shusic.com/links.html</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112488913692202640?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11117792.post-1124551343296417102005-08-20T08:01:00.000-07:002005-08-20T08:30:28.066-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/1600/santa_sitting_with_child_candycane_lg_wm.gif"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5835/888/320/santa_sitting_with_child_candycane_lg_wm.gif" border="0" /></a><br />'Sup Santa!<br />How you doin' Old Boy....C'mon we all know you've been around since before Methusla so let's not kid ourselves (See I'm being a good little girl and telling the truth!!! technically speaking that's more brownie points!)<br />'Nuf said. I'm sure this letter finds you in good health (like you do any work, if there were labour unions at the North Pole you might suffer from stomach ulcers, but since there are none and all the those 'helpers' do all the work...you have time to go to the gym and not to mention probably practise tai chi!)<br />Right, You know I'm older now so I'm not going to ask for that Barbie Doll (I didn't get it, but thanks for Cindy, who my younger cousin force fed to the dogs and now sits top naked in some long forgotten chest, sans lower body!) And thanks for the doll house (Which I didn't get but I learned a lot from being carted off to grandma's house, as child labour may I add!!!. But in the grand scheme of things, when you think about it, grandma's house is bigger than a doll house...but thanks!)<br />So.... Now that I'm all thanked up (Yes thank you for all the other christmases in between where I just lowered my sights to getting by with one christmas where the damn turkey didn't burn! And thanks for all of them because now I'm always invited home for christmas... doesn't take rocket science to guess who's doing the cooking? Me! Thanks...AGAIN!!!)<br />Yeah, where was I? Since my sight for christmas have been greatly reduced and I'm now a pro at making the christmas turkey with all the trimmings and have even pulled a Martha Stuart with Lobster for christmas... I figure you owe me big time...like about 15 big ones!...(not that I'm counting or anything!) So why don't we just settle the favors and start from base? It's not like I'm asking for a lot. I would just like to have the one and only Mr. Decadent quite heavenly (you must admit God made THAT man!) SHU! Under my christmas tree. Bows and all, or not at all! I'll unwrap the gift myself...thanks.<br />Oh Yeah.... Shout out to Msanii_XL! may you live long and prosper!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11117792-112455134329641710?l=stunuhjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Stunuh Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747439391984202866noreply@blogger.com12