I'm coming out of the closet...

no, not that one you pervert. The other one.


Yes, the one without the sign on. You see, I will never open the other one for
other people's sake. Because of the stuff that will come tumbling out, some of which might hit you and give you a concussion the size of Texas, look like this >




We hardly come out of clean closets, otherwise, they'd be no reason to come out. It would not be as fun if we had to come out of such

Thinking about it, i do think I'm NOT coming of that closet. Why? because it's the only place I feel safe. Because just looking at it makes my insides calm. I love order. So much so that it does affect my relationships. Which is the very opposite of my personality, as I thrive on spontaneity. I'm obsessive compulsive. I like my clothes folded in a certain way, I like my shoes arranged in a certain order and i like my movies and books arranged in a certain order. I have colour codes for my bras (and even a men's guide to bras that has been the single post that generates all my blog traffic!).

Chicago, Illinois arrived on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes" Bedford, Bedfordshire arrived from images.google.co.uk on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes" Irving, Texas arrived on "Even Angels Fall...." Stockholm, Stockholms Lan left "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes" via bp3.blogger.com Stockholm, Stockholms Lan arrived on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes" Conway, Arkansas arrived on "Even Angels Fall...." Düsseldorf, Nordrhein-Westfalen arrived on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes"

and that is based on a slow day!

I went to Banes and Nobles in Santa Monica to buy a few movies. I was in the Series section and for the love of me, I could not find Kyle XY. It looked as if the arranging was done alphabetically from the top shelves, but as i moved towards the middle, the order seemed to have been lost. I think the shop attendants had figured that they could fool you up to about the letter 'F' then throw in all the DVDs haphazardly. I could not stand it. Could not stand see Family Guy right next to House MD and Six Feet Under besides Friends. So i started arranging them. One by one, I put the DVD's in their right places. I did not think it was strange until one of the shop attendants came over and tapped me on the shoulder.

Can I help you, he said.
Yeah, I'm looking for Kyle XY . I said.
For a minute there i thought you were arranging the DVDs. He chuckled
I was. I told him, as a matter of factly.

He looked at me very strangely. I told him i could not stand the DVDs being that disorderly. He thought it was the funniest thing he's ever heard and shared it with the shop manager. After a few jokes, i did actually get Kyle XY and he threw in the TV show, Dexter for free!

DVP, however does not share the sentiments. Not when I kick him out of bed so to re-make it as I cannot sleep in a bed where the sheets are not straight enough. The first time it happened, he thought I was kidding. Before, he would make the bed and I would re-make it. It irritated him, but he learnt to live with the fact that I cannot stand a badly made bed. Now he does not even bother, which drives me mad The same way I cannot stand the fact that OCD is spelt that way. I want. My mind refuses to let O come before C and D. and CDO would do fine for me. Like the way this does just fine for me.

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Table for One Anonymous

Posted in Dec 2008.....

A couple of weeks ago, i rejoined the other fish in the market. After 2 years of being a fish in aquarium, a pet fish, I'm back to the display market.

I am floating somewhere in there. It is impossible to see me because the new fish on the block get moved to the bottom of the pile. You see, the higher on the pile you are in a fish market, the more the chances for getting picked are. In our little fishy fish dreams, all we see is this merchant coming by and getting captivated by our glistening scales, our strong fins and our beady eyes. We lie there and implore him with our half open mouths, as if saying, ' If you don't pick me up, this might be the last breath i take.'

This is not to say that our woes end with having a merchant possess us. But is the first step to a more fulfilling life. Of course there are those fish that i know are content on being in the market, but some fish, like i kinda like being a pet fish.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I have said goodbye to the 'his and hers' club, and joined the Table for One Anonymous. I'm not scared of being alone... ahem....single, i just hate it. I enjoy sharing the little things with someone, I like being silly with someone who will look at me, shake their head and smile inwardly knowing that it's that exact silliness that makes them love me more. I like being able to have a lazy thinking day, when i have the liberty of asking ' Hunny, what are we having for dinner?' and actually getting an answer. Because you see, my microwave hates that question. And whenever i ask it, its response is not to work that day. I thought I'd solve this problem (of asking questions and getting answers) by buying an answering machine. Pardon me for thinking an answering machine is a gadget that give you answers!

I like having someone to call and rant to, who will, by virtue of laws laid out in the Dating Code, listen to me. I like knowing that somewhere, there could be this person who thinks I'm the greatest gift to mankind, apart from obviously House MD and blogging. In simple terms, I like being in a relationship.

I have not had much time to mourn my loss of status, the going back to being a fish in the dreaded market, what with all the traveling...but lost love is double fanged bitch! Once you loose it, it waits in the shadows, lets you have grand days and in the middle of the night, it creeps up and starts prodding you...

With Lost Love (LL) taking on the worse imitation of Freddy Krueger, the conversation goes like this

LL: 'Hey Dark, Are you awake?'

Me:'Now I am, who are you?'

LL:'Someone you used to know'

'Thanks for clearing that up. Makes it very easy to figure it out'

LL:I'll give you are clue'

'How kind of you, seeing as it's 3 am and all'

LL:'I used to make you smile for no reason in the middle of a work project, I used to make you look forward to going home in the evening when youknowho was around. I used to make the message beep on your phone increase your heart beat.'

'Oh, you'

LL:'Oh yes, me'

'And why, of all the 12 hours of daylight, did you have to wait until now to come calling'

LL:'You see, your days are too busy. Once i come your life, i don't let you walk that easily. I don't fight for attention. This is the best time to get you. Take you down memory lane.'

'Do we really have to do it now?'

LS:'Absolutely. Remember that day....'

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What doesn't go up...

...gets a heart attack.

Little pieces of information that always makes me question why i didn't know about sooner. Not that i have ED, i mean, i don't have to rise, but it would have helped all those men i've been with who had to be rushed to the ER now and then. I've been bragging that it's my bedroom (or kitchen, or shower, against a tree, or back of a taxi) skills that sends them to hospital. I was even thinking of making a warning sign to men who come to my house. It took a while to get my landlord to agree to me installing this one on my door -- seeing as I'm a good citizen and considerate neighbour, what with mine being the most desired area in the city. Unlike my next door neighbour Kevin(a), who takes all her activities to the streets down below, i like to give ample warning.
I emphasize on her as she reads my blog and would want to keep our nonexistent friendship going. The last time we got onto a fight on about her waste disposal habits, i found this nice note stuck on my door.



Now, threatening to take away my womanhood is bad enough threat, but given that i come from Africa where that might be viewed as a good thing - makes me more docile, they say (bastards!!) - but making me white? That is one serious threat. Which is why I'm not messing with her.

Where was I? Oh yeah - installing signs. After sending about 5 men to the ER, it's only fair that i re-consider my bedroom tactics. I'm taking a hint from my Irish friends


and working on this:


It's still on the concept stage, do not fuss about the design and balance in elements. Why Hollywood, you ask? because they are having too much over there and every one pretends that they don't know the cause of the California fires. Don't believe me? Nicole Kidman can prove it --
Also, If I'm to do one with an African theme, my good intentions will be misconstrued to mean this

and no, I'm not talking about foreign aids.

Looks like i wont have to work on that sign anymore. Because i have been told that it's not my performance that has them looking for this guy --

It has come to my attention that men with failure to launch problems, who do not rise to the occasion, meaning that they bow when they should be saluting have a higher chances of getting a heart attack.



Does that mean that all those unused little workers in the sacs grow old, die and become cholesterol which is stored around the heart?hmm.



I did my duty and bought this plant for one of my 'failures' for his hospital room. It was the least i could do. If i never noticed that he was not 'up' to it, i surely must take part of the blame. I figured that if he kept it watered, seeing it rise and bloom might give him hope.

Which made me think. Does lack of sex cause heart attack too?

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The Land of Opportunities

My boss thinks in her sleep. She says those are the best ones.

On Wednesday night, she thought. And her thoughts included me accompanying her to Los Angeles for a film locations expo. We are representing Kenya as a filming location, and meeting producers who might be interested in filming in Africa, and would like assurance that Africa does not always have to be described as writer Binyavanga Wainaina describes below:

Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Prize. An AK-47, prominent ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an African, make sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress.

In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people who eat primates. Don't get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The continent is full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many other things, but your reader doesn't care about all that, so keep your descriptions romantic and evocative and unparticular.

Make sure you show how Africans have music and rhythm deep in their souls, and eat things no other humans eat. Do not mention rice and beef and wheat; monkey-brain is an African's cuisine of choice, along with goat, snake, worms and grubs and all manner of game meat. Make sure you show that you are able to eat such food without flinching, and describe how you learn to enjoy it—because you care.

That being true in every essence -pick up any book about Africa- I'll pay you if you don't have some sort of description as Wainaina describes above.

Being Kenyan, getting a US visa is top of the list with the likes of meeting Koffi Annan or eradicating world poverty. The trip was planned for 8th April, a less than a week from the night my boss thought. So when she told me on Thursday morning that she would like me to accompany her, i thought: now she's gone and lost it! no Kenyan has ever gotten a visa that fast.

At first, I checked the embassy's website for interview dates. The only available dates were 24th April. Too late. To some extent, I was relieved. Like any student in Kenya, i had dreams of studying in USA. But after seeing (well, hearing) horror stories about the US embassy, I gave up. my dream turned into loathe. The stories were long queues that started at 4 am and rejection of visa applications even without glancing at them. The last part i did not believe, but the first - i had seen my neighbour leave at 3.30am to go to the US embassy, which does not open till 7am.

Somehow, we got me an interview for Friday (the next day!) at 7am. I turned up at 6.30, and there were about 20 people before me! Never have I seen Kenyans that punctual. If only they turned up that early for other events in their lives - especially appointments and work. Good times! After undergoing through security check, and spending almost 20 minutes removing ,y bangles that have been on my wrist for years, I got through. Backtrack - i was kinda annoyed there. Surely, if it took me twenty minutes to take off the bangles, isn't that proof enough that if I was going to use them at weapons, then I wasn't the brightest of terrorist? The first part was the checking of papers by Kenyan girls with a faker American accent than Hugh Laurie in House MD. (I still love him). Then we sat back and waited for the interview. We are all in the same room, and we are called one by one on to windows that look like bank tellers booths to have our fingerprints taken. The next is the hard step, the interview. Everybody is listening into your conversation and it is very embarrassing when the guy behind the desk tells you - almost smugly - Your visa has been denied, you will find the explanation why on this pink sheet. Have a nice day.

I was the sixth or so person to be interviewed, and by the time my name was called, no one had gotten a visa. I sat there thinking about all the shattered dreams, all the dashed hopes... and it hurt. I was not concerned whether I got the visa or not really. for me, either way was fine. It's not like I was dying to go anyway. It would be nice to e able to go, I though, but I'm not excited at all.

So my name got called and I walked to the booth. The guy glanced at my papers and asked me about my company and the kind of films we do. I explained the difference between a production company and a production service company and a bit about why it was cheaper to film in Kenya than in South Africa.

A minute later he said - Mercy, your visa has been approved, please come collect your passport on Monday at 2 pm. I looked at him and said - Why, thank you!

So now I'm off to LA when I had completely given up on ever going to USA, all because i hold a Kenyan passport. But as I walked out, I could not help but feel bad for the guy whose conversation i happened to be listening into. He talked for a good 15 minutes without a pause about the poverty state in his family and how he was the beacon of hope for them , hence his need to study in the US, and i think his near desperation is what killed his chances. A part of me wished he had gotten my visa instead of me.

Why is it that Americans, (and pretty much everybody else) can get their visas to Kenya at the point of entry while we have to wait months to be granted the interview, then teeth clenching moments as we await the verdict?

Undergoing MyBlogLog Verification

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My Addiction

My friends will tell you that if I had one wish, it would be to make David Shore and Hugh Laurie live longer. You wanna know why?

House: Hello, sick people and their loved ones! In the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chitchat later, I'm Doctor Gregory House; you can call me "Greg." I'm one of three doctors staffing this clinic this morning. This ray of sunshine is Doctor Lisa Cuddy. Doctor Cuddy runs this whole hospital, so unfortunately she's much too busy to deal with you. I am a board certified diagnostician with a double specialty of infectious disease and nephrology. I am also the only doctor currently employed at this hospital who is forced to be here against his will. That is true, isn't it? But not to worry, because for most of you, this job could be done by a monkey with a bottle of Motrin. Speaking of which, if you're particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this: this is Vicodin. It's mine! You can't have any! And no, I do not have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem... but who knows? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm too stoned to tell. So, who wants me?

Cameron: Is that the woman you use to live with?
House: No, that's her Indian name.

"...there's no I in 'team'. There is a me, though, if you jumble it up."

House: “Are you a fan of symmetry?”
Young Doctor: “Sure.”
House: “Weird, because your eyes are lopsided. And by eyes I mean breasts.”

Dr. Eric Foreman: Chase, stop.
Dr. Robert Chase: [stops]
Dr. Gregory House: How'd you get him trained so fast? Electronic collar? Got dog treats in your pocket?


"There is not a thin line between love and hate. There is --- in fact --- a Great Wall of China with armed sentries posted every 20 feet between love and hate."


I think you get it now. And i hope you agree that I need therapy (and the Complete Season 4 DVD, complete with Extras). I found this treatment...

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