I was sleeping last night, after a long day of playing this game called life, when it started.
Someone came knocking at my door.
A slow ominous thud thud thud.
I’m a lot of things but brave isn’t oneof them.
I’ve always wondered what all those guys who walk downstairs in the dead of the night with a baseball bat expect to find.
Some guy waiting downstairs with a ball?
Anyways. Ever the survival freak I crept under my bed and started counting backwards from 1. I’m not very good at that and it takes all my strenght to concentrate.
After 5minutes of nerve jarring thuds the knocking stopped and something was slipped beneath my door.
It was an envelope. It glowed a bright fluorescent red in the dark. I was instantly wary.
My power bill?
I crept slowly towards the envelope observing with humor that my fright had gone leaving me covered with sweat and a mild erection.
What was my body thinking? I’m about to die.
Quick have an orgasm one last time!!
I brushed aside my thoughts and picked up the envelope. It didn’t have any thing written on it. It just lay there in my hands pulsing its dance of red scream.
I opened it.
Inside was a note. My first emotion was relief. It wasn’t my Nepa Bill. Quickly following that was disappointment. It wasn’t a birthday card or a gift certificate.
Now firmly in the hands of curiosity I pulled out the folded sheet and lifted it to read . The message was simple.
“ You’ve been tagged on Blogsville zone,
Today’s the 29th of November
If you fail to post a post tomorrow, we’ll be coming for you.
Bring a baseball bat. We’ll beat you to death with it
P.s Could you please buy some popcorn and soda.
It’s not much fun beating people without food. Leave it in your fridge!!
I woke up from my dream.
I didn’t sleep much after that. I dashed off to the computer.
Blogsville was coming for me. I was in trouble. My deadline was the end of November. That was today.If I didn’t reply to my tags I was done for.
I was doomed. I was going to be beaten with a bat. Not sexy beating, (and i couldnt stand those) but crazy beating.
The "what are you doing naked in my bed with my wife" kind of beating.
Somewhere in the dark my 9 year old Casio watch let out a beep.
I had just crossed from the 29th of November to the 30th.
I had 24 hours.
My brain wrestled with fear and the need to concentrate. I had been asked to write 7 weird things about me.
I started typing.
Seven weird things about me.( Stop shivering and type you idiot!)
I love Magic.
No kidding. Magic. The kind where a dove seemingly comes out of an empty hat.
That kind? Yes. I’m a fan.
For as long as I can remember I’ve always loved the idea of tricks. I had an Uncle who was half Jewish. He had this neat trick where he would make a coin disappear and then pull it out of my ear. It used to completely blow my little 5-year-old mind.
Thinking back now I realize that I might not have done anything about this love of mine except life played a really cool trick on the world.
It made the Internet appear.
With an ad infinitum of knowledge only a keyboard away I dived in.
I’m hardly a professional. I do your basic card and coin tricks.
My coin tricks aren’t that spectacular. I enjoy pulling coins out of little 5 year olds now and watching them scream with delight. But other than making coins appear and reappear I cant do much more.
My card tricks are a lot classier and advanced. I was well into my hobby during my first year of admission into a university. I always had a deck of card in my hands.
Practicing is king. There are over a hundred sleights you need to be really good at.
I’ve got a lot of great stories but I think my favorite is the one where I asked a girl to pick a card. She did. I asked her to sign it. She did. I then asked her to stick it back in the deck and shuffle it.
After she had I asked her to search through and pull out her card. She couldn’t find it. While she was gasping with shock. I called a guy walking by and asked him to take of his shoe.
Inside his shoe was the card.
Nice huh? I repeated the trick but instead of a shoe I made it appear in her handbag.
She totally freaked out.
I watched her scream and jump.
I had turned her into a five year old girl with boobs.
Eventually though everyone started becoming wary of me.
The rumors started. I was a wizard.
Carlang Voldermort Gandalf.
Even though I told everyone that it wasn’t real magic no one would believe me.
After an entire week of having strange looks from people I sat down (On a chair. I hadnt learnt how to float in the air) and thought about my options.
I could either continue awing people whilst hoping that I'd bump into a sexy beautiful native doctor, or I could give up my hobby and become normal again.
So I gave up my hobby.
Tossed away my book of tricks.
I don’t do tricks anymore.
Although every now and then I’ll pick a deck and someone will walk over to me and say.
Hey! Do you gamble?
I turn to the person, Give a smile and say.
”Pick a card!”
I love Coke:
I got the inside dirt from a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who works there. In the international sales room of coke they have a chart. On it is listed the amount of coke sold to countries. My name is on the list. Between Canada and Congo.
I’m a die-hard fan of coke.
Breakfast for me most of the time is a simple bottle of coke. My friends call me an addict. Good call!
Still every now and then I take a vow of abstinence and stay off coke for a while. My longest purge was last year. A particularly beautiful girl promised to kiss me for as long as I wanted if I didn’t drink coke for a month. I abstained for 3 months and got to kiss her as far as I wanted.
I love foreplay:
Seeing as I ended the above weirdo exclusive with some tale about my relation with females I might as well continue along that train. Sex is lovely. Really.
But if sex is the climatic ending of the hit trilogy, the lord of the rings, then foreplay is the breathless 8 hour build up of the movie before we find out that frodo succeeds.
Simply put. I derive as much fun in kissing a girl and trailing my tongue all over her as I do with the eventual act of sex.
Sometimes I think maybe I love it more. There is nothing as nice as making love to a woman with your hands and tongue, tasting her lips and neck, teasing her nipples into tapering peaks, and having her gasp out her thanks. Her hands roving over your hair and back…
Nothing as nice.
My ex girlfriend once asked me which I’d prefer.
Making love to a woman.
Or drinking Coke.
Drinking coke from a woman.
I love watching Animations.
Think Disney’s classics and Japanese animations. I could spend days watching them. My mum calls me a TV Zombie. Animations are a modern day expression of art.I love the 3d animations as well but that really isn’t weird since most people do too. That’s it. I’m an animation nut. I used to do a bit of drawing back in secondary school. Infact I still do. It’s one of my dreams to work at Pixar or Disney. I’m still hoping. Till then I’ll just keep watching.
I love making up bullshit stories.
It’s a curse. There is nothing I love more than fooling really intelligent people.
Last week I convinced a bunch of guys that the Papacy has a rule where all reverend fathers must marry before swearing their oath. That way they know exactly what they’ll be missing. So technically every reverend father has actually been married. Because you cant be a reverend father until you’re married and divorced.
Weird thing was some guys actually agreed with me and said they watched it on CNN.
Another favorite occasion was during a party. I told some girls that the constituents of the atomic bomb that blew up Hiroshima was half part coke the other part vodka. If you mixed them together you would have an explosion. To prove my point I asked anyone who was brave enough to take a swing of coke and then vodka. No one took my challenge. 5 months later I was at another party and I heard some girls warning people not to drink coke and vodka because that’s what blew up Nagasaki.
I love taking showers.
I probably take 6 showers a day. It’s pretty silly when you look at it because half the times I really don’t need to take the shower. But still I do it because …because I can.
I love making faces.
It started out with me trying to be a cartoon character when I was little and ended up with me being cursed with it. I’ve got an animated face. I can’t do anything without the expression showing on my face.
The only time when this okay is when I’m having an Orgasm. I hear normal faces aren’t advised.
I have never taken a normal picture. It’s always Carl and his silly expression. My mum calls it me squeezing my nose.
Once my ex girl friend took me to a studio and took over an hour’s worth of pictures until she had one where she said I looked completely normal.
I don’t know why she liked that one but I remember what I was thinking and it was
I hate all those gorgeously cute guys in Greys Anatomy. Why do they have to be so bloody perfect?
And then the photographer took his shot.
So now every time I need to take a picture with a normal expression that’s my trigger.
I wish a plane would fall on that Mc dreamy guy.
Ha! I bet McSteamy is really gay.
Mc Dreamy. WHat kind of silly name is that. Mr cool? Dream on dreamy!
Mc Dreamy. Mc steamy. Na only them dey this world? I wish they would be ganged banged by a quartet of Grey silver backed Congo Gorillas
There. I’ve done it.
Phew. And now I’m supposed to Tag someone else.
That’s easy. The hard work's been done already. Everything after this is merely icing.
Here's my list of taggees.
Lightly (so you can do it right this time.), Bumight, Nyemoni (so we can finally get a post), and Undercovasista.
Tag. You're it!
Start writing already.Dont wait for the red letter.
I’ve done it.
I've done it.
I don’t have to buy the popcorn anymore do I?