Sometimes, when I am having a crappy day, like today, I prepare myself a strong cup of lemon coffee(a delight a certain geek friend of mine called Will introduced me to, one time when I had consulted him in a bid to reduce my program coding dumbness and evade an F,the grade.) and I sit and think about some of my life decisions and choices.

*Like why I strangely enjoy staying without undies while indoors, Bae or no Bae. It’s just a thing I enjoy. I don’t even know why. Feel free to judge, you PERFECTLY untainted creation of God.

*Or why I leave my room sometimes without a bra, not on purpose of course. I just forget. See whilst others were endowed with jugs, the Man Above deigned it fit to bestow upon me some teeny-tiny Barbie doll cups, that like Miss Pepper’s, don’t even touch. So I guess it’s okay really,for me to walk around bra-less, because no one would notice anyways.

*Also, I think about how I sit or stand, depending on the meal, (Omena for instance, always has me standing. I don’t care what Nyanchwani says. Omena is the real deal) and lick my cooking pans clean, right before I get down to what I have served myself, which in most cases is enough to feed Shrek, together with all his ancestors and descendants.

I don’t even know where I am going with this, but what I do know, is that Satan is the shitiest person I know. I swear he tempts you in the craziest of ways and makes you question your sanity and everything you stand for. As I type this, he is currently frustrating every webpage reload and button click that I have tried to use to log out of Bae’s Facebook account on the next tab. I have been at it for about ten years and nothing seems to be working. Okay, it’s only been a couple of minutes but it’s taking so long it feels like years. I can picture him with his ugly horns and tail,and his stupid arrow going round my head saying,

“Come on…hit that inbox icon. You know you wanna…You know you wanna…”

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And he’s right. I REALLY wanna. I wanna hit that inbox so bad, I’m beginning to sweat just trying to resist. It literally feels like the icon is calling me to it, seducing me like that Proverbs 7:10 woman. Like it will give me a year’s supply of Oreos just as long as I click on it. I am beginning to feel a tension fart boiling up somewhere in my rec. I’m in a tough situation for sure, because believe me when I say that Olivia Pope has nothing on me when it comes to Information Sourcing. Well, other people call it snooping but I am Luo. Everything about us is exotic, and that includes the words we use. But that’s besides the point.

The point is, the old me, the one that was made to believe that men are conniving two, three or even five-timing dogs, depending on their degree of imbecility, would have jumped at this seemingly heaven-sent opportunity a.k.a Bae forgetting to log out. I would have gone through every single message from now to the time he joined Facebook, dissected his activity log and then created a sticky note with the names of all the ladies whose pics and statuses he liked or commented on, for future information sourcing. I would have gone through his News Feed to see if he is still friends with that ex he used to adore so much, then gone back to his inbox to double-check whether they are still in touch, not forgetting to triple-check to see who he had in the oven, next in line, in the event that we broke up.

See, we women are a paranoid hormone and emotion-raging breed. Everything sets us off, and we like to be sure that our territory is safe and untargeted. Sometimes the means we use to achieve this are a bit unconventional but it is the results that matter, right? Right? We like to know that our men are being faithful and that if we have to share them then it should ONLY be with the English Premier League. We appreciate them telling us that they love only us, and that the only cheating they would do would be with beer and nyama choma. We want our men to tell us that they love us, all the time, and not just when their loins are on heat and they need to cool off. We love to be pampered and showered with gifts and love…and gifts.

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I’m not trying to replace Dr. Phil here so I will get back to my being in the claws of the devil. Where was I? Right. Old and new things…So the new me borrows a leaf from Jesus and decides to sit here and write up an entirely pointless blog post that was totally not planned for, impatiently waiting while my attempt to reload the webpage for the umpteenth time is underway.

Now, I know what those who know the Olivia Pope in me must be asking themselves. Did she go to some Trust-Rebuilding Rehab, is there even a thing like that? NO. Is she sooo high on something that she cannot clearly see the icons that she needs to click on? Grade one weed or some third generation liquor maybe? Again, the answer is NO. I gave up the bottle on the day it landed me in some filthy ditch in Rongai,after a rather heated brawl with the boyfriend then(now ex), much to the amusement of onlooking bodaboda operators who were having a rather boring Saturday morning. Also, weed turns me into some psychotic fries-consuming idiot, with no regard for calories or impending muffin tops.

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Image Credits:

The thing is,the new me is still extremely paranoid af and my trust issues are yet to come down from 10 on the Richter scale. Believe me, it is taking every ounce of strength in me not to go through his account. I want to, but I am choosing not to. Not for any specific reason really, just that the new me is a tad lazier than the old me and I’d rather just sit here and use my time to ensure that that tension fart stays in there, since there are people around, than to go through his account. It’s too time consuming plus I don’t want to task my brain too much, yet. I’m just starting a new semester and I’d rather preserve it for all the suspense and the mysteries I will try(and fail) to unravel in all the series I will watch, what with the free Wi-fi.

Besides, chances are dangerously high that I might run into shit that will piss me off and I don’t really wanna frown or grimace right now, because I recently just cleared my face of some terrible acne, and I’m still enjoying that, so I am not ready for wrinkles and frown lines just yet.snnop

Oh look! It’s logged out. FINALLY! Crisis averted. Both the Devil, and the tension fart, gone. Thanks for waiting with me! You can now get back to your normal life. Me and my abnormal tendencies will head on to see what Mercy Orengo and Silver Furaha Gaita are upto today.


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6 thoughts on “Temptation, Snooping And Other (Un)Related Things”

  1. The thing about a good read is that I read it word by word wanting nothing to pass by.Am judging you , alright. It’s a good thing you never opened that inbox .


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