Are Campus Boys insecure?

We are not insecure, just a little jealousy. It is your duty and responsibility to ensure that we are comfortable, especially if you are beautiful and outgoing.

“My ex-boyfriend was sooooo insecure, I couldn’t even have male friends,” Brenda was telling me as she stirred her milk shake with such a sexy dexterity that only she could pull.

“If a man is insecure, it means he cares about you so much,” I said as the Masala tea I had just sipped hit my nerves hard, getting my eyes a little teary.

“No, sometimes it borders on plain stupidity. A man ought to be confident and trust his woman to make the right judgment”, Brenda told me, looking me straight in the eye.

Brenda is a Kalenjin hotie. When it comes to natural beauty, with flawless skin, you gotta give it up to Kale chicks. There is no overstating it. And Brenda easily fits this billing.

Her smile can explode a petrol tanker into flames, believe you me. So seductive. So charming. So infectious. It reminds me of Cece Winans. She is a bit short, may be comparatively to my tall, skinny self. And she has a good name. Brenda sounds like Bulgarian for honey. She has a full body, meaning I can walk with her around comfortably turning my peers green with envy… In deed those I bumped into were fawning over themselves to come up with the most original lines to best tell her she is pretty. Sample Plato:

PLATO: You are pretty. They have told you that?

BRENDA: Yeah, they have said as much…

PLATO 😦 Rather curtly) They lied. You are gorgeous.
BRENDA: Laughing, smilingly.

Not knowing the best facial reaction or outward reaction to put on. Every beautiful woman, doesn’t know the best way to respond to genuine compliments. And she is so self-unconscious of her beauty.  If I had such looks, I would possess some attitude the size of China.

Brenda is a medical student, 20 years of age and in her first year. To her, campus is the best thing that has ever happened. She has everything going for her; beauty, brains, wonderful company, the freedom and all the mad fun that comes with it. She is feminine and womanly so. I like her candour, even when it hurts. Like when she tells me, there is no way she is going to date a boy in campus.

Never, ever. For a moment, I feel for the young boys in first years who might be having hots on her.
Of all things we discuss, one stands out: Insecurity amongst men. Her ex was so insecure that once he even hit her.

You don’t hit a woman. You don’t hit a beautiful woman. You don’t hit Brenda.

The boyfriend was overly protective and she never could have a life. It got worse when he actually hit her. I swear if I meet that monster, I can dispatch him to his maker in the most horrific, gory, painful, saddest way. Anyway, let us  discuss insecurity in general amongst men.

Insecurity
Insecurity is one of those words that ladies like to harp about for no good reason. Eleven out of ten women I bump into must have had an encounter with a man who is irritatingly insecure. They hate it. They hate it when their man can’t simply trust them when they are on out  their own. They hate it when their men insist in knowing every Tom, Dick and Harry; especially Dick  in their phones. They hate it when their men can’t stand them hugging other men.
But why are men always insecure?

OK, this is our story.
We are always informed by our experiences. We know there are men out there whom trusting a woman close to them is as safe as trusting a terrorist close to an American Embassy. We know these men who make women go weak in the knee. Who, if given a second can seduce and squeeze a quickie faster than you can log out of a Facebook account. They exist. Some of us have been granted the opportunity from the least likely quarters: married women and very girlfriends loyal to their boyfriends. Suffice to say, we are not exactly the definition of handsome.

With time, I have come to learn that women can be loyal to one man but very unfaithful. We have women who always offer very flimsy reasons in order to get a lay out of us, yet they are in very stable relationships. They always blame the insecurity of their men and think the best comeuppance for their boyfriend is to sleep around, yet this is the exact fear of their boyfriend.

Men learn to trust their instincts over time. Not to say that every woman is loose. Far from it. I know as many faithful women as I know unfaithful ones. There moments that are forgivable. In this valueless society, where the heat of the moment can override everything, some sexual acts are too spontaneous to blame anyone. But then, it is better to be safe than to be sorry. Men anticipate problems and try to avoid them. Women hardly see a problem with harmless flirtations.

We are insecure, because we don’t trust the judgment of women. Women want the most of everything. A man who is funny, witty, intelligent, tall, dark, and rich. On a given Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, it is hard to come by a man with all these attributes. They exist but in different quantities in various men. Some are gifted with so much but have one fatal flaw that cancels everything. The reverse is also true.

And women have learnt the art of getting what they want from multiple sources. It is ingrained in our subconscious that your average urban chick can hardly be faithful. Hence we are in a permanent state of insecurity on what she could be up to, when not around. It is the same feeling that our elder sisters and mothers felt in the absence of their boyfriends and husbands. Only that the shoe is on the other foot.

We always bump into women who are otherwise in steady relationships in clubs dancing raunchily with other men, deeply inebriated and careless about everything. We sort of wonder where the boyfriend could be. Such are the incidents that often inform our insecurities.

Often we overplay it, but it is never far from what our instincts tell us. If your man is insecure, and you believe that there is nothing you are doing to warrant any fear, it is your duty and responsibility to ensure he feels as secure as possible. Avoid hugging every Tom, Dick, and Harry, especially Dick in the streets. Stop that flirty behaviour. Stop it. It is that easy. When disgruntled and his behaviour turns psycho, walk out, lest you get hit.

Never, ever date a man who is overly insecure. Considerable insecurity is enough to show that he is jealousy enough to show that he doesn’t wish to share you with other dogs out there in the world. Which is what love is all about.

Are Campus Boys insecure?

Are campus boys in campus insecure?
We are not insecure, just a little jealousy. It is your duty and responsibility to ensure that we are comfortable, especially if you are beautiful and outgoing.
“My ex-boyfriend was sooooo insecure, I couldn’t even have male friends,” Brenda was telling me as she stirred her milk shake with such a sexy dexterity that only she could pull.
“If a man is insecure, it means he cares about you so much,” I said as the Masala tea I had just sipped hit my nerves hard, getting my eyes a little teary.
“No, sometimes it borders on plain stupidity. A man ought to be confident and trust his woman to make the right judgment”, Brenda told me that looking me straight in the eye.
Brenda is a Kalenjin hotie. When it comes to natural beauty, with flawless skins, you gotta give it up to Kale chicks. There is no overstating it. And Brenda easily fits this billing.
Her smile can explode a petrol tanker into flames, believe you me. So seductive. So charming. So infectious. It reminds me of Cece Winans. She is a bit short, may be comparatively to my tall, skinny self. She has a full body, meaning I can walk with her around comfortably turning my peers green with envy. And she has a good name. Brenda sounds like Bulgarian for honey. In deed those I bumped into were fawning over themselves to come up with the most original lines to best tell her that she is pretty. Sample Plato:
PLATO: You are pretty. They have told you that?
BRENDA: Yeah, they have said as much…
PLATO 😦 Rather curtly) They lied. You are gorgeous.
BRENDA: Laughing, smilingly.
Brenda is a medical student, 20 years of age and in her first year. To her campus is the best thing that has ever happened to her. She has everything going for her; beauty, brains, wonderful company, the freedom and all the mad fun that comes with it. She is feminine and womanly so. I like her candour, even when it hurts. Like when she tells me, there is no way she is going to date a boy in campus. Never, ever. For a moment, I feel for the young boys in first years who might be having hots on her.
Of all things we discuss, one stands out: Insecurity amongst men. Her ex was so insecure that once he even hit her. You don’t hit a woman. You don’t hit a beautiful woman. You don’t hit Brenda.
The boyfriend was overly protective and she never could have a life. It got worse when he actually hit her. I swear if I meet that monster, I can dispatch him to his maker in the most horrific, gory, painful, saddest way. Anyway, we can discuss insecurity in general amongst men.

Insecurity
Insecurity is one of those words that ladies like to harp about for no good reason. Eleven out of ten men I bump into must have an encounter with a man who is irritatingly insecure. They hate it. They hate it when their man can’t simply trust them when they are on their own. They hate it when their men insist in knowing every Tom, Dick and Harry; especially Dick is in their phones. They hate it when their men can’t stand them hugging other men.
But why men are always insecure? OK, this is our stories.
We are always informed by our experiences. We know there are men out there whom trusting a woman close to them is as safe as trusting a hawk to take care of the chicken. We know these men who make women go weak in the knee. Who, if given a second can seduce and squeeze a quickie faster than you can log out a Facebook account. They are there. Some of us have been granted the opportunities from the least likely quarters: married women and very loyal girlfriends. Suffice to say, we are not exactly the definition of handsome. Think of the Mr. Handsomes.
With time, I have come to learn that women can be loyal to one man but unfaithful. We have women who always offer very flimsy reasons in order to get a lay out of us, yet they are in very stable relationships. They always blame the insecurity of their men and think the most rewarding thing is to sleep around, yet this is the exact fear of their boyfriend.
Men learn to trust their instincts over time. Not to say that every second woman is loose. Far from it. I know as many faithful women as unfaithful. There moments that are forgivable. In this valueless society, where the heat of the moment can override everything, some sexual acts are too spontaneous to blame anyone. But then, it is better to be safe than to be sorry. Men anticipate problems and try to avoid them. Women hardly see a problem with harmless flirtations.
We are insecure, because we don’t trust the judgment of women. Women want the most of everything. A man who is funny, witty, intelligent, tall, dark, and rich. On a given Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, it is hard to come by a man with all this attributes. They exist but in different quantities in various men. Some are gifted with so much but have one fatal flaw that cancels everything. The reverse is also true.
And women have learnt the art of getting what they want from multiple sources. It is ingrained in our subconscious that your average urban chick can hardly be faithful. Hence we are in a permanent state of insecurity on what she could be up to, when not around. It is the same feeling that our elder sisters and mothers felt in the absence of their boyfriend and husband. Only that the shoe is on the other foot.
We always bump into women in otherwise steady relationships in clubs dancing raunchily with other men, deeply inebriated and careless about everything. We sort of wonder where the boyfriend could be. Such are the incidents that often inform our insecurities.
Often we overplay it, but it is never far from what our instincts tell us. If your man is insecure, and you believe that nothing you are doing to warrant any fear, it is your duty and responsibility to ensure he feels as secure as possible. Avoid hugging every Tom, Dick, and Harry, especially Dick in the streets. Stop that flirty behaviour. Stop it. It is that easy. When disgruntled and his behaviour turns psycho, walk out, lest you get hit.
Never, ever date a man who is overly insecure. Considerable insecurity is enough to show that he is jealousy enough to show that he doesn’t wish to show you with the world. Which is what love is all about.

Case for platonic relationships in campus; not such a good idea

Platonic friendships are an amorphous and ambiguous arrangements that only serve to use the man, a sure sign that the man failed to get the woman to bed but they still can get along argues Silas Nyanchwani

Abigael. She is one of my favourite acquaintances. Only two things are wrong with her; her height, she is rather short for my towering height and may be her name. It is worse than Carol.

But Abigael is cute, pretty and beautiful all rolled into one. She is sweet. In fact if she were a drink, she would have been the finest grape juice straight from a Greek farm. She has that deep, slightly light chocolaty complexion that makes her skin edible. She is short, right? But her bum is well enhanced, tighter and compact that every man almost invariably spanks her in his mind. She dresses to expose this, as if to make up for her height, and well may be for her name.

Abigael…Abigael sounds like the name of an offensive even hazardous biological by-product in a community like Kalenjin. Its short version, Abi, is even masculine by default. But she doesn’t fuss much about it. She has no choice. Like everyone else when it comes to our names.

But her feet are perfect. If served with anything from mashed potatoes to bread toast would totally confound the taste buds. And she is bright, witty, exposed and feminine above all. I still don’t comprehend how she makes to be feminine so effortlessly, yet any woman with half her wit, behaves in every single way like a man from dressing to talking, if you get what I’m saying. Abigael is in the less than 20 women in this town who own more skirts and dresses than pants.

I like Abigael. I love Abigael. But I don’t like her name. We have been the best of friends since 2006. We met at Corner when we moved there. They have been phenomenon neighbors. Abigael finished from Precious Blood Kilungu, I think and proceeded to take some Horticultural courses at Egerton University and she just cleared campus, although one year younger than me.

Initially, we never talked at all as it is expected in newly constructed flats where guys hardly interact. But our friendship began from a likely coincidence. First, I think she used to have hots on me, especially with my height because she was through high school just like me. But a simple concurrence brought us together. I was in the balcony reading a Sidney Sheldon novel and she was reading the same book. I recall her asking me, rather fearfully,

“You too are a Sheldon fan?”

“I can’t get enough of him, he is simply a genius,” I enthused.

“I am almost done with all his books and I’m afraid.” She said in that eager to please sort of manner. I acted disinterested. I wanted to piss her off so that I can create some aura of mystery but her presence was so overpowering. Overwhelming. I liked her the first day I saw her. But the two of us were playing aloof but deep within we knew that somehow, somewhere down the line we were meant to be something. And Sidney Sheldon brought us together.

I wanted to date Abigael, make her my girlfriend but I made a terrible blunder, I let friendship overtook us by some slight oversight punishable by a lifetime of laughter from peers. I was the best qualified in the hood to date her by virtue that we were just through high school and all qualified to join campus. And we both had our shared interest.

She is a prolific consumer of coffee. Just like yours truly. I used to think that sort of it was a middle-class fad until I discovered that she is actually an addict. Abigael can consume mugs and mugs. So coffee dates, both domestic and external, mainly at Dormans in Yaya Centre and Java at Corner became our favourite past times. Our discussions mainly revolved around books, career, aspirations and all that crap that individuals who think they are serious get involved in. Basically, I was taking a long and laborious route to get laid. There were days that Abigael looked and behaved in manner suggesting that I should change my talk and talk to her in boy-girl, man-o-woman stuff.

I picked the clue but was doubly worried what going to bed with her might do to our friendship. Soon, she must have concluded that I’m an egghead as my boy Bon-I prefer calling me. She started treating more of a friend than anything else. We watched movies together, sometimes to the naked (pun) hours of the night, jumped to bed together and slept without doing anything suggestive. We both were paying cautiously. Having discussed with her virtually everything under the sun, we both knew how detrimental it will be if we succumbed to our bodily demands.

I never asked her about her boyfriend and she curiously avoided that topic altogether, may she was and is still not dating. Neither did she ever want to know how I’m fairing on emotionally. Until this last Saturday.

We were doing our coffee, though they have become fewer with time at some place in Karen. She had turned up with her sidekick, Naomy; a fat, obnoxious and really bitchy woman but whose company you don’t really mind owing to her not so original one-liners. She laughs quite loudly and annoyingly. No sooner she learnt that I’m Kisii than she embarked on a long monotone in broken mother tongue telling how Abigael talks about me nicely. Yeah…Like I recommend her the best books, novels and movies. That I take her to coffee dates, I’m generous and all that crap. I took offence.

Abigael complained the unexpected linguistic exile we had thrown her into and Naomy curtly told her that she was merely asking her who was she to me…Lover, fuckmates, friends with benefits, what exactly? She was rapping…

Like she was feeling a threat, she took offence. It was becoming a farce. To break the ice I threw the question to her,

“Abi, how can we define our friendship,” for some strange reasons, she was feeling embarrassed.

“Platonic friends.”

I was furious inwardly. Platonic. This word sounds like Swedish for pooh-pooh. Platonic. It sounds offensive and insulting. What was she thinking. I’m yet to talk to her to understand what she meant exactly. I felt cheated and violated. She could have said friends.

And that is the problem with platonic friendships. They are an armophous arrangements that normally pits the man as a loser and the lady as someone enjoying the good things a relationship can offer; comfort when she has been deserted, errands from the man, often perceived as a gentleman, and the few treats like movies and dinners. Platonic friendships mostly benefit the woman than they do a man.

Only women believe in such draconian and silly concepts as platonic love. For a man, it is either you are shagging or get the hell out of the way. I have come to learn rather late that, in relationships unlike politics, learn to state what you want from the word go. Don’t conceal your intentions, like it happened with me and Abigael.

A woman offers you some window period whereby she measures your potential and monitors your intentions. Not many women can give you obvious clues. They let you figure out that you are getting along fine and throw the bait.

But sometimes we are afraid of women as men. There are those women; you don’t exactly know what to do with them. They are not your idea of a girlfriend but they have certain desirable things that you won’t mind exploring, both physically and emotionally. When you start talking them up they are nice to you but you are never sure of what their reaction would be to your advances. You become so tactless that they in turn sit at the driver’s seat. In the long run, you don’t exactly live up to their expectations but they won’t mind having you around for other benefits.

May be they can offer you sex if their current relationships fail. You become the fall guy, or this man she intimidates her boyfriend when he is not behaving. In campus, it is an exploitative arrangement where the man delivers notes, movies and good company when she is particularly down. No man should accept this arrangement at any given time.

But whatever it is, platonic friendships should are the worst thing that ever came from the Greek philosophers. What was Plato thinking…?

All the women in campus, not so funny

Types of women in campus
It is scientifically proven that women are a confused bunch. I hate clichés like the one I have just used, but don’t women lead clichéd lives. Have you ever tried going shopping with a woman, especially along Moi Avenue?

It might sound harsh but so all facts and truths are. Have you ever tried to understand a woman? It is impossibly difficult. I have, believe you me. Women themselves don’t know what they want. Just pick a woman at random and ask her what she wants out of life and she will either act ignorant or proceed to enumerate 97 things when you stopped listening to her dreamy narration past the second thing…

Occasionally, when I’m down, I pick a woman (mostly a stranger) randomly in campus, chat her up, book her for coffee date and go listen to her talk about stuff. It is entertaining and therapeutic Crap heals. Women are interesting listening to. Listen to a woman bitch about her stuff and men and you wonder why Churchill is trying so hard to be funny anymore. Women want that man who can do stuff for them. Go the proverbial extra mile as my boy PO observed the other day.

A woman expects about 107 things from a man and in return she will repay by lying on her back, counting stars in your ceiling. Quite frankly, what can a woman offer you in return to the treats she expects from you as she rants and raves about herself other than sex and plenty nagging, especially the not-so-beautiful ones…

Come to think of it…have you ever stopped to consider things women say once you break up?
“I gave you my best…I gave you my all…and such…”
What she actually means is, I gave you p****. Period.

With that less than savoury intro, this week we classify women in campus and any harsh description is regretted upfront. It is my hope that the humuor (if at all there is) will not be lost on the acerbic tone of this article. This blog is about fun. Having said that, we move on but in no specific order…

The stupid bitch
She must be the one who sticks chewing gum under the seats. Really disgusting. She had more issues than a magazine stand along Tom Mboya Street. And any woman who does this is stupid. She is instantly dislikable by both men and women students. She is a loud mouth, more often than not presumes she is hot, gets her fashion sense wrong and thinks that playing tom boy makes things right. Doesn’t. Sometimes, she shows up outrageously dressed with silver lip gloss that reminds one of the devil. She is petty yet she mistakens it for pretty. You wonder how she made it to campus. She does not sound intelligent at all. She is loose yet she can be the most difficult to lay…

The stupid bitch thinks the world (in this case, the university) owes her a living. She is a diva, and a bad one at it. There is nothing intellectual that will ever come out of her mouth…. I hate even writing about her, so we move to the next category that I so much respect.

The motherly sisters

These women are reasonably older than most of their peers. Something, mostly a kid or two must have wasted a year or two before joining campus. They are motherly by both looks and demeanour. Most of the time, they somehow fat and that bust looks like is about to bust.
They are humble. May be out of maturity or the discovery that life was never designed to be fair and can never be fair. They are not into make up at all. They are at home with everyone and often go to church religiously (as in dutifully). The travails of motherhood taxes them a lot and I respect them for the their sheer patience amidst contempt from the younger girls who act like they are growing any younger…and the men who treat them more like mothers or blood sisters

They are less fuss, not into fashion and they even can shave their hair and no one will complain, for people look at them differently. I love this category. A mature woman often turns me on (not sexually you pervert)
The beautiful confused

She knows she is beautiful. She is so painfully conscious of the fact that she is a bore. It is very hard to hit on her because 1. She is saved and mostly goes to a church with a name accompanied by either hill or chapel. 2. She still dates her high school sweet heart or in some funny stable relationship. 3. A virgin waiting for the big bang. She is a bore even to her friends. She doesn’t drink alcohol because the last time she did, she didn’t like the experience because she woke up unsure of what happened.

She could be beautiful, but past her first semester in campus most men would have known that her only claim to fame is her pretty face. She has nothing intellectual or funny going on for her. She can’t give you her number. Sadly enough, they lose their virginity to the least deserving dogs (don’t ask me the criteria) and often the easiest to get knocked off. Later on, many men ignore her and forget about her altogether.

The beautiful spoilt
She is beautiful but has the personality of a wall. Often you will be tempted to tell her to apply make up in the inner. She is a true a diva. All the men admire her but have no guts of facing her. Often she is intelligent but so unapologetically bitchy that very few men in campus can dare hit on her much less even go ahead to date her.
Of course in her first year she was indiscreetly generous and a few men got a cake of her before she settled for that sixth year Engineering guy who dumps her after a roller coaster relationship. After this, she will hardly date in campus, although she will occasionally get laid by some smart chaps who help her do assignments since she is ever busy.

In her latter years she becomes a gold-digger and carries the word expensive written all over her face. She wears expensive clothes, pricey jewelry and a perfume that can suffocate a roach out of existence. One thing is for sure, they have a price and to them, anything with money, even if a baboon will lay them, otherwise I can’t get the reason some lady I so much admire and desire got laid by some aide of an assistant minister…

That chick slightly above average and not extremely beautiful
Anytime a man is asked his opinion about her beauty, he must twist his mouth and nod his head irregularly to show some disagreement or disapproval but it is generally agreed that they are beautiful or to use a silly adjective, ‘f**kable or doable… Although there is always something out of place, that small bum, very tiny or very big boobs…

These cliques normally overstate their beauty and often walk in a group where others are average Marys and Janes, just but to feel hotter than them. She is well equipped with artificial intelligence (From movies, inspirational books and of course aunt Google,) knows her way around town and generally smart. She normally has sufficient brains to back her up and she is not blonde at all.

Most men find her cool to be with although she normally has problems with men. Most of the time, she wants a good man to keep but good men are only interested in dating her briefly and shag her before dumping her. Often she is not worth keeping, since she is too dynamic and hard to trust her. She is too free with men. She speaks her mind only that her mind is not the most interesting thing you can listen to. They are good girlfriend material but you will have to share her attention with her many male ‘pals’ who are mysterious as they come. Some are church mates, some just friends, even when they look every bit, pussy robbers. Because of their looks, men, time and again fawn over themselves to treat them, they don’t how to say NO. Often, they have some religious commitment and occasionally show up to church…these churches for the upwardly moving types. They are friendly, though.

The beautiful and comfortable

They are exceptionally beautiful and adorable but the world does not revolve around her looks. Like some Maasai chick in our class who by consensus is the thing. Well, she is not strikingly hot that you can give her a movie role, she is quite short but it takes 7 seconds of meeting her before you hear the ground beneath shifting.

She is so mature and disarming. When she talks to you, you don’t want to date her. You know she is way past anyone’s league and quite interestingly many guys associate her with Mercs and big cars, yet she doesn’t look too materialistic.

I always wonder why every other chick is not like her. She is lovely. She is sexy. The epitome of beauty and behaviour. She doesn’t have issues with men. She is known to be strictly in a monogamous relationships.
The groupies
In campus, groupies come in fours, I don’t know why. They are like adjectives…GOOD, BAD, UGLY and the other one who cannot be categorized. Often the ugliest in the is the group’s voice of reason and the most talkative. Her opinion determines the fate of many men. They are forever together to every social gathering and they are known to back bite each other so much.

Sometimes the most beautiful might be too absorbed by her own image that everything revolve around her or she leaves the group altogether. They normally have issues and they think collectively. In English, it is called the HERD MENTALITY.

Average Marys and Carols

If the first thing men compliment about you is a part of your body or your attire then you know you are not up to standards in the looks departments. Everything is average about them. From class to hostels to the men they date. They get sexed averagely. They dress modestly and they are just about campus. They will study hard, get a degree, get a job at some NGOS or a government ministry and it is done. They go to church and they are just a part of the crowd…Even this description ought to be average.
The small girls…
I’m running out of steam here…but let us do it some more.

These women are petite, tiny and short. Often quiet or very garullous. They hardly inspire sexual thoughts in men. They are young both in age and mind. What I have persistently observed is that these women long to be loved. They want romance. They want that ideal romance they constantly hear about. They are suckers for novels and soaps. And they are vulnerable.
The college suppliers

By the time they are done with campus, they have seen many joy sticks. Long, short, small, big, black, brown, thin, fat, some facing up, some facing down et al. Either they are sex addicts or they can’t live without a man. If a man is feeling sufficiently randy or accidentally swallowed Viagra, such a chick can come to his rescue. Often they are presumed risky lays…
The party animals and alcoholics

Call them for alcohol and their punctuality will astound you. They have partied virtually in every joint in town in town and have been fungwad a number of times. If you want to lay her…just buy her alcohol. They dance a lot and typically are the answers to the common stereotypes like those associated with USIU chicks. I have to stop here and spare those bloody villagers who converse in mother tongue…nothing sucks so much…

See yah next week for more fireworks…