Kenyan Madness Abroad

Will this turn out to be the elusive outlet for me to unleash my creative genius on an unsuspecting world? Or is it destined to be nothing more than a hi-tech pen and pad chronicling the ramblings of a delusional mind? You be the judge ... Just so ya know there's a disclaimer: This blog contains strong language and some adult situations. Viewer discretion is advised.

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Cultural, expressive, thoughtful dude. It's not all good though coz I am also an internet addict, and a sometime stalker too. But I am happy to say I am in therapy for the internet thing :)

Sunday, February 11

What? Women Like Our Sweat?

Recently it was discovered by researchers that women are actually attracted to, and in some cases, turned on by the smell of men's sweat! The report says "Women who sniffed a chemical found in male sweat experienced elevated levels of an important hormone, along with higher sexual arousal, faster heart rate and other effects".

Can you believe this? And why are they telling me this now? Do they know how much time and money I have spent over the years wining and dining the ladies to get them to hopefully experience these same sexual feelings later in the evening? What about the countless bottles of cologne that have lined my bathroom counter top? All the while my natural "aroma" would have done the trick! To borrow a quote from the great Homer Simpson, Doh!

This one time in high school I went on a date with a chile from a neighboring sister school that I had a crush on. I used to make stickers of our names and weka them on my Oxford Mathematical set. I spent more time decorating that set than somaring my Abott. Halafu on the light switch in my bedroom on that plastic part with the screws, I decorated with our initials ati "BK - n - CW". And this was only 2 weeks after meeting her. Those were the days of Pink Cadillac and Just Got Paid. Everything was so fresh and so new and I guess I got caught up in adolescent thrills. Looking back now, I cringe at how I was so soppy and let my emotions get out of control like that, but I digress.

As I was saying it was my first real date and I was quite excited. I needed to make an impression on her coz you only get one shot at these things. Unfortunately as with most chaps in seco, money was tight. To get enough chumes, I sold my treasured Michael Jackson "Thriller" poster for fifty shillings. Those too were the days that Jomo Kenyatta currency notes were scarce and I happened to have saved a KSh5 denomination one. I sold it for 10 bob to my neighbor Toma. These were really precious collectibles to me but I was willing to give them up to take this chile to Wimpy. Sigh, puppy love.

Had they come out with this phenomenal sweat news back in the day, I would have gone jogging a few laps around the track before meeting her. Our lunch joint would have been a mabati kiosk where she and I would place orders of Millenium (which is chapati with chips and mincemeat all rolled in one) with Tangawizi. I would make an attempt to sit real close to her so she could catch a good whiff every now and then. As soon as I notice the sweat glands under-performing, I would excuse myself and find my way into the kitchen at the back and pretend to "check" on the cooking meal just so I can get close to the fire and work up another good flow for the apple of my eye.

A few years later when I had a bit more cash in the pocket, I used to go to Garissa Lodge in Eastleigh to purchase the most banging cologne of the time; One Man Show. The place was also allegedly a drug den where guns and ammo were sold to the most hardcore criminals. Here I was hob-nobbing and rubbing shoulders with them just so I could smell good for the damselles. WTF? Had I known my own musky scent turns them on just the same as the cologne, I wouldnt have risked my life going there in the first place!

Jamaas, its not too late. Valentine's Day is around the corner. Toss out your plans to buy expensive roses and chocolates; cancel your reservations at those pricey restaurants. Fuck it, snatch Cupid's bow and arrow and shoot the little bastard! I am here to tell you that what women really want is not in your wallet; it's in your armpits. C'mon fellas, who wants to run some laps around the track with me? Its a win/win situation; if she doesn't like the idea of a sweaty date, we can always package and sell it and make back the money we have wasted all these years ...


Blogger The future diplomat said...

lol that was funny

2:50 PM  
Anonymous Iggy said...

this is great, hysterical. Guns n Ammo and you were there for cologne! LMPBO thanks for the laughs!

2:33 PM  

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