Jambo!
Jambo bwana!
Habari gani?
Mzuri sana ..
Jambo bwana!
Habari gani?
Mzuri sana ..
A small number of tests undertaken recently have led me to believe that it's physically impossible to listen to that song and feel unhappy. It's a Kenyan song that they seem to enjoy, and it stirs up all the memories of June 2009 and makes me fuzzy inside.
Praise fortuitous circumstance! The sun's come back! After god knows how long of having snow, rain, and that half-arsed mix of the two that didn't really know what it wanted to be, there is now sun again. Not even misleading sun, even. Like the one that appears and makes it look nice and warm when it is in fact still really bastard cold. This means that the often-considered-but never-used idea of thermal underwear can be sent back to the drawing board. The reason for the idea of thermals was that regular pants just don't cut it. The cold spell we've just had had a crafty habit of sneaking right up your leg and grabbing at your balls. Jack Frost is a fucking pervert.
We had a good debate a short while ago about which people in my house would be the best Pope. We concurred ultimately that none of us are cut out for the job, as none of us have unhealthy attractions to choir boys and the whole 'sex before marriage is a mortal sin' aspect hasn't really worked out so far. Oh yeah, and the whole atheism thing. But, I'd still like one of them pope-mobiles. Who cares anyway? I mean, the Pope? Pure comedy gold. I'd like to shake the hand of the caveman who came up with that one.
Praise fortuitous circumstance! The sun's come back! After god knows how long of having snow, rain, and that half-arsed mix of the two that didn't really know what it wanted to be, there is now sun again. Not even misleading sun, even. Like the one that appears and makes it look nice and warm when it is in fact still really bastard cold. This means that the often-considered-but never-used idea of thermal underwear can be sent back to the drawing board. The reason for the idea of thermals was that regular pants just don't cut it. The cold spell we've just had had a crafty habit of sneaking right up your leg and grabbing at your balls. Jack Frost is a fucking pervert.
We had a good debate a short while ago about which people in my house would be the best Pope. We concurred ultimately that none of us are cut out for the job, as none of us have unhealthy attractions to choir boys and the whole 'sex before marriage is a mortal sin' aspect hasn't really worked out so far. Oh yeah, and the whole atheism thing. But, I'd still like one of them pope-mobiles. Who cares anyway? I mean, the Pope? Pure comedy gold. I'd like to shake the hand of the caveman who came up with that one.
