Three days on the gross

By Smitta

Havin’ just gotten cheddared after a moola-lesser week-a, n wit tha weekend beginnin’ on the first day o’ May, I hit Labour Day like a stolen bank truck goan thru a copper-stopper. N not givin’ a frigging.

I couldn’t make it 4 my buddy Jack Mango + his mamsilla Nadra’s daughty’s first b-day at Pizza Garden aftie. And Kwani? ‘xperienced a lil ‘Failure 2 Launch’ their next PEV-installment @ Goethe. But no sweat.

Me n me peer Stevo Muendo-Zimu’s were good ta hang out at San Valencia for a ka-moja tu! Dat o course turned into a 2am-er at Tamasher, Nairobi West, wit a bouncer Face Control causin’ 4 us for making merry (mayhem, ha ha) but da manager intervening like an I.V. drip ta make shore we dint git the out drop. 4 dat I thank ya man, (ager), but I kint recall jacket.

Twas all noise n lights, or else Alzheimer’s n vodkamnesia (followd by nausea da nex’ day, which is why I coont go a –pintin’ wid de award-winning Stellaski Lemons of DStv. Omoiseke oyoo, mambi, heh heh).

As 4 Stevoski, he still had tha energy to go make merry in South C at the Spudski, b4 getting’ to his hood in ‘B’ huko four/three.

Twas a Sato, n watt better tyme 2 feel kinship with me fellow madmen n go see the inmates of Mathare United (yey, sisi wendazimu tuko pamoja ka vodoski na ndimu) beat the raw Gor (or K’Ogalo, hamjaiva) at the Brrr! Stadium.

I don care how much dat Atwolski (wid juzz a lil space between his ears, er, si he puts pierces in his ears n studs them to go wid de bling on his neck?) makes noise ati ‘Goga Gola’ stadia soundz unpatriotic. Nyayo, other then 4 tha free milk we kunywad as toiz, wazn’t dat hot a name either. I got a propo 4 a brander like, err, Julianna K of EABL. Y donchwe nunua tha lil cow pasture in kisii dat we call Gusii Municipal Stadium, yu pay me like three milli, n we re-name it de Smirnoff Smittadium?

Ho hum! Jus sayin’. Meantime, tha madmen of Matha got whippd three-one ki-madhaa by wafala wa Gor. I calld CEO who waz at Hooters watchin’ Man Silly FC to give him de newz, but he started singin’ sumthin’ about ‘ko-ko-kogallo-gor gor mahia — wallever’ on me credo, so we cut him off. N prepared 4 rock at Museum Hill.

First tho, had quick sups at Ale House nex’ door, n twasn’t ill. Some casual waiter tried ta sell me singles at two sock a shot, n thank goodness owner Masheti waz in vicinity to trouble-shoot.

Rock itself waz at Blue Times, n here waz Dan ‘the Dragon’ Odhis himself ter ease us in. I waz darn glad ta see King Jack on the decks, already playin’ his hand of brand rock; he good.

B4 we’d even sat, a young man was intro-in’ himself to me as ‘Alex Aint Hawi,’ my buddy 4rm Face-Book. I’ll tellcha watt, I like it wen me buddies 4rm cyberspace stay virtual.

Take Aint Hawi 4 exampo. He sounds big n mean on Sura Kitabu, but in reality, his face is so-ooo sweet coz he only 17 n the big booty twenny-sumzin chickadee he waz hangin’ out wid looked like a beautiful mbuta that has taken a small omena out for a date aroun’ the H2O’s of Migingos.

Talkin of beauxes, here came pageant king Leakey Odera only he was promo-ing energy drinx, n if the vodoski wazn’t already at an insane 180 a tot, I’d a done a potent cocktail (vodo at joints like Tanagier is only sixty bab a shot; n eeen the cool pubz dat sell it in halves n quarters like Taidy’s, Reminisce n Winkers still make moola, so wizen up, other clubz).

DJ Gordo, prince of rock, waz also in de house n he made me remember the Zeep years not too far back wen we’d rock like we had Down’s Syndrome to diesel like 3 Doors Down’s ‘Be Like Dat.’ Yu think all rock’s juzz wild n senseless? Check this out: " She spends her days in California, watchin’ the stars strut on the big screen. Then at night lies awake, n wonders, ‘Why can’t that be me?? If I could be like that, I’d give anything, just to walk one daaay-yy-yy, in those shoes.’"

No zizki wid deeper lyrikz n more poetry den rock, wich ain’t 4 the shallow among us in life’s hollows, then.

Big Ted, who nowadays drinks juzz energy vinywajis, passd by t’ble n tole me there’s a picha of me, him, Eudia K the poetess, Pippo O n other peeps in boxers, noodz n bikinis on the hot geysers of Lake Elementaita doan the www.roundz. N I sed -, ‘whallever, dat outta-town outing was so long ago, back in de mid-June of oh-5, am sure you (Big Ted) still hadda six pack’. So long 4ever ago, in fact, I was tempted to throw back more 3 Doors Down lyrickin like – "I thought I ran onto you down on the street. I remember the face, can’t recall the name. I made a point to burn all of the photographs/ She went away and I took a diff’rent path; Now I wunder how Whatsername has been." Cut, pasted, or posted, the past (esp from so-oh-five-ago) don’t bother thiz wasted block party bloke.

Bleed, the poster boy 4 rock, introd us to Kevo who sells rock paraphernalia in Westie, n me thought, ‘ma-beste, 4 us beastie mboyz, rock’s juzz like kasina.’ Only person I’ve really missd from me party scene is my buddy Mike ‘TawfiQ’ Slaughter, n dame Tess. We gotta bondKa.

Down in Galileo’s, there was still time to close the pub courtesy of Mawry of there who got the ‘diski — n the red, red wine.

Folk normally talk of dealz with the devil, how yu gotta carry a long spoon if yu gonna be dining wid Mephistopheles, me care less, tis dealz with angels like da Sharonova dat worry me.

She’d gone done hard rock, I hadda go Mavuno church wid her @ noon.hangover.com, n I wazn’t happy@ll. Never ever!! 4 a long tyme, kanisa 4 this dude was a death or weddo affair, n goan there once-a=monthski still kinda scary (like lightnin’ will fall).

Mavuno on Mombao road aint as awful tho, yu getta meet a few walevskis; n I met Neema Mawiyoo spinnin’ out in her mots n we chatted. Tuff titty Sterling Quality entertainment wid de O’Yeah bruthas hadta go over-budget n couldn’t hack promisin’ series like The Agency, makin’ hommies like Ed-TV Kimani homeless. Now wid me series writer 4 M-net dreamz gone, sob, I’ll end up as a paparazzi wino on welfare in a soupski jikoni ‘chini ya mti,’ drinkin’ uji n U.g. waragi, 4ever forced ta square wid only Pat Amira’s show 4 company, kwanzawen she hasn’t combed her afro. Lor!

A day after winnin’ summa Groove Awardz, Kanjii Mbugua made sum groovy remarks chini ya tent at how some celebz re-act ta winnin’ these award thingies. I’ll re-phrase, to edit out tha cheesy ‘u-savedie’ — (a) The Hoodratz celebz who go ‘Ni Mwamba tu, jo, si unajua tu, joooo.’ (b) The Record Label **s-Smoochers, ‘I’d like to thank my record label Karafass, my producer Elopa, man if I waz a dudette I’d kiss ya **s rite now, did I mention Ka-Ra-fasss?’ (C) The Over-Emotional, usually a chickadee, who cries, blows her nose, bows, sez ‘Mummy,’ thn chokes n can’t say no more.

Kanji 4got one group. The Jesus freaks who wen dey win an award, go on their knees on-stage n squeak: "nadaka kupea Mungu asande, followed by Yesu na lo-ho mukata-tifu, not forgettin’ darling Virgin Maria ambaye alinape lo-ho kwa stoo-dio whish wash a very dark tunnelly, wid an overcoming train, comin’ too-wards me, verr faaaasssstt."

Yey. Outside mavuno tent, I met ole pal (Jimmi Gathu’s bro-in-law) Tony Karanja who was me best friend Praima 4rm Std three till six (FB shd start a top ten buddy list like Praima) n who we usedta watch ‘A List’ n ‘Miami Vice’ wid. Nice! Next perso I saw waz Janet Kanini of NTV whom I juad from less forever ago (ten years tops) who I tink has dunn verry well 4 herself — n hubby Ikua wit whom we cracked a few dry jokes about ‘Vision.’

Achshually, man, my only vision is twente-thate (as a patriotic Kinyan) n my only mission is to outlive Yesu’s years on earth,n even Pop Marley. N if I can have barley on Furahidayz too, mission accomplishd.

This is the gospel accordin’ to Lord — "Walls come down like thunder, the rock’s about to roll. It’s the Arockalypse, so bare ya soul, all dat we need is 4 lightning to fall. Rock n roll angels angels bring thyn hard rock hallelujah." Yey.

 

 

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