Scribbles

Hola I'm guest-blogger Ashley from   She Who Will be Tamed , anyway! I have a bone to pick about society and love. Especially love songs. Why the hell are all of them so damn whiny? It's not that it's just whiny, they're borderline pathetic and almost suicidal.  Has anyone notice the trend where men are all like,  "I can't believe you don't love me, look of all the things I would have done for you," which of course, sounds sweet, until you get to the hook where they're like "I would have jumped in a grenade for you, in front of a train for you".  That's not sweet, that's not romantic and I hope to God nobody really expects the love of their life to jump in front of a damn grenade. The real story is, why in the WORLD is someone throwing a grenade at someone? A friend of mine was like "don't take it literal, wah wah" but I think it's sending a bad message out there for men and women.  ...

The first time I got arrested, I was seven. They came to our house in their white Santana, asking for me and my mother. I hid behind the chimney protrusion outside our house, eyes shut so hard because I believed if I couldn’t see them then they couldn’t see me. I heard mum telling them that she did not where I was but they led her away anyway. Then they came back for me. With their bionic eyes they fished me out from behind the chimney. I did not fight them, although my legs felt rubbery and I couldn’t walk on my own. But they carried me to their car, dangerously parked in the middle of the road. One of them had a gun, at the very sight of it, my bladder almost gave. But the look my mama gave me stopped me from disgracing myself. But it did not stop the silent tears rolling down my cheeks. The car smelt of urine and unwashed bodies. All the windows were closed. The man with the gun poked my mama in the ribs and told her to sit up straight. “Eh, medem what do you t...

This December, because, as some may believe Jesus was born on the 25 th -a truth which has been challenged to no satisfying conclusion, I want to impress you guys. So I am going to post on important issues, and rant on pseudo- intelligently I refuse to be all sugar and spice, I will comment on world peace, and what I intend to do with my Miss World tenure, a title I hope to win. As some of you may or may not know I am the reigning Miss Zimbabwe, long legs, luscious lips and abs for daaaays.  Our previous pageant queen, whose possible winning of the title I seriously doubted. A fact which had me going to my booker to see exactly how much I could bet for her pending demise, proved me wrong by coming 9 th place overall. As I see myself as way more of a bombshell, and your potential queen I prophesy a clinching of the title based on a unanimous ten by all the judges. After that all of my ugly minions will be forced to bow and address me as “Your Majesty” “The Div...

Zimbabweans are a superstitious lot. Four fifths of the population has gone to see someone about their future or situations which usually range from how-to-get-my-husband-to-fall-back-in-love – with-me to how-to-get-that-promotion-at –work-even-if-it-means-killing-my-boss . I once went to see one of these seers, a prophet. Now before you judge me, think of the horoscopes you have consulted, and little tarot cards and some such nonsense. Anyway these people are like little Japanese people asking you to take off your shoes, everything else stays but those shoes have got to go. Pay attention to the eyes “You are quite young,” I was. “I see you are trying to get your boyfriend to marry you,” I wasn’t “It will be a difficult feat to accomplish for I have seen a black cow following you,” “I have not been trying,” “Yes it is this cow that is putting those thoughts in your head,” “I don’t think I want him to marry me,”   “I see y...

Read this from my archives, it looks long but it really isn’t, because a lot is just conversation between my grandparents. Soon dear reader, soon I will be out of my Writer’s Block funk and the pursuit of awesomeness will begin. ------------ Our driver always played the radio loud.    He probably did it to drown out the noise we made. What puzzled me was why the station he played was in English. He was the same age as my Grandpa and my   Sekuru   always insisted that we play National FM. “Those reporters on your station speak through their noses Shupi, I cannot hear a thing,” he would say. I would turn it back to Radio 2 as he still called it, as soon as he was out of earshot I would change back to my channel. I did not need to wait long Sekuru was losing his hearing, fast. Each time he came to visit, it seems I needed to yell a little more. He insisted that I talk a little, no need to yell. “Talk a little louder Shupi” I would yell. ...

Before you start, in case you don't know. Bob is our president here in Zimbabwe. And Morgan is the young upstart who wants to usurp his power. The way things are, Bob does not see that happening anytime soon. Here's a little bit of why. ------------------------------------- Bob was sick and tired of showing Morgan how to do a fist pump, after all there was only one right way. Hand raised in the air, with the fist clenched tightly and shaking it at the crowd for all it's worth.  It was unheard of in Zimbabwe for a man to aspire to be president and not know how to do a proper fist pump. Even Zuma who had neither his decorum nor eloquence knew how to pump his fist. Although if he was honest, Hu Jintao had not been able to figure out how to do it. Once on  trip to China he had tried to show the Chinese premiere how to address the people. Hu had flailed his arms so much that Bob had been forced to give up. What was i...

                                It's quite an accomplishment to get a woman to go out with you, it is quite an accomplishment to get the lady to love you. With that in mind ladies when you start dating a guy you deserve a party for being so pretty/awesome/having such beautiful hands/fine skin/lovely eyes/ such a throaty voice. All of that should be celebrated, so when he starts a conversation, here's how it should go. “So what do you want to do? Movie? Dinner?” You should answer, “How about a party…for me?” “A party?” “Yeah, it will be a good chance for me to meet your friends and for you to meet my friends.” “A party?” “It doesn’t have to be a big party…although that’s what I would prefer. It could just be at your place with a few friends and drinks.” “Okay.” “And then after drinks we all ride in a limo to the ballroom you rented and meet the other two hundred guests. It could be ...

Sex & the City grossed $280 million dollars last year while 20 million people died of hunger in the same year. In 2005 major U.S tv stations ran 6,248 segments on Michael Jackson's child molestation trial. 1,534 on Tom Cruise, 405 on a runaway bride from Georgia & only 126 on the Sudanese crisis. Vulnavia said i should write something light & engaging since her blog is premised on just that. Her blog gets far more hits than mine because it's the Sex and the City kind of blog & mine is like the Sudan Crisis. So to Miss Vulnavia i say thank you for allowing me to bring Sudan On the set of Sex and the City. The porn industry generates close to $14 billion dollars a year while according to UNICEF 22 000 children die each day due to poverty. Seems the world is now comfortable with feeding their sex addictions than feeding the hungry. Musicians show off their wealth on MTV Cribs to the people who made them rich. The people who made them rich now want to live like the ...

If you are me, explaining ceaselessly to your 6 year old sister why you aren’t married is tedious. Being cross examined by a 6 and 12 year old is slightly worse. “V how old are you.” (Mumbles appropriate age) “How old is cousin V?”  (Not to be confused with V me) I mumble a number which makes her 2years younger. It takes N about an hour to figure this out. Large numbers are still a bit of a problem for her. “But she’s having a baby, why aren’t you?” “Well…” I struggle to find a response, 6year olds are robotically engineered and any question is most likely a double entendre. “You see,” I continue in my best grown up voice, “she is married and I am not.” Big N who is beginning to understand life a little better pipes in, “But you are sooooo old when are you getting married? I am telling you, by this time next year all the boys will see you as an old maid.” “But you have a boyfriend; doesn’t he want to marry you?” N whines “You s...

Please tick appropriate answers. 1.        Hi! How are you? o    I can’t find my FEET o    I like tomatoes o    Good! You? o    STALKER Feel free to tick whichever is more appropriate, and befits a person of my station. Although I do wonder what station that may be. Today’s post is all about quizzes, random I-know-the-answer-and-you-don’t questions. LET’S GO! 2.        What number do you mean when you say a few? No seriously what number, 2,100, 0 how many is a few? 3.        Many people feel that fat women have a harder time than fat men. Do you agree that fat women have a harder time than fat men? Do you feel that society treats fat people differently depending on gender.(found on www.quizrocket.com ) o    as a woman, I suffer special pressure to stay skinny and not get fat o    As a ...