Why women repeat things & “Why guys STOP TALKING to girls out of nowhere”

Frank (not someone’s name) enough!

Real News


It was my first one night stand. My first “white girl”. My first night in Vegas. Yet, as I slid off her panties, all I could think about was my girl back home.

By: Ebrahim AseemFollow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”

The most annoying thing to a man is a woman who repeats herself. It makes you want to hang up on her difficult ass, storm out, or call up one of your side chicks who doesn’t nag.

Side chicks get more attention than wives & girlfriends, because they know their role & play it well. No back talk. No arguments. No repeating herself. Just lust & affection as she strokes your fragile male ego long & hard, when your main girl isn’t acting right. This is what mentally immature guys tell each other when women aren’t around, to cover up each others…

View original post 3,399 more words


How to carjack

By Kenneth Jura | Kenya

George locked his metal cabinet, switched off his office lights walked past the secretary’s office where he easily loosened his tie. Inside the office a clock on the wall made sure its tick tock sound was heard, it was some minutes past 10pm.He made his way past the small corridor leading to the elevators lobby. As he waited, Mutua their security guard bid him goodbye

“Boss leo naona umechoka sana”

“Ni hali ya kazi, lazima tukazane” – George said as he entered the elevator and pressed G.

He walked out of the elevator took a left turn and out of the building. He continued walking past National Bank Harambee Avenue, crossed Moi Avenue to the walking human of Nairobi.On one lane past Nakumatta a matatu conductor shouted at passengers who know where they are going (we always never know where we re going to, according to the touts), on his left some vendors placed their wares on the pavement.

A lady selling tomatoes and onions on the streets swiftly wrapped her wares in a sack then rushed towards a lane joining Moi Avenue and Tom Mboya and immediately George followed them oblivious of what was happening. After crossing Tom Mboya he realized that city council askaris were in hot pursuit of hawkers and not him which halted his running.

On Mfangano Street music from jewellery and mobile phones shops kept playing as others had their doors ajar, other closed. A considerable queue was evident on Utimo matatus but George was not ready to wait and easily walked down to Citi Hoppa which was half empty and charged less by twenty shillings to Umoja, he did not like umoinner matatus due to their arrogant touts.

He sunk on a seat next to the window avoiding the three-seater-seats that were on his far right. A lady in her mid-twenties sat next to him shook her head throwing her braids on George’s shoulders disrupting him from the tiresome dreams he had carried from work. She had red oak lipstick on her thin lips, well-manicured nails not too long to injure and not too short she wore a dress that moderately left her leg exposed.

Behind him sat a young man who drunk soda.

Dorobucci’s tune alerted George that his phone was ringing.

The fine lady

“Hallo Jaber, how are you? I am in a matatu. I will be there in 10 mins” George quickly quipped then immediately pressed the red button on his phone.

The matatu was almost full; it slowly moved past Afya center as the conductor shouted at the passersby to board,

“Thate Umoja”

“Thate Umoja”

“Thate Umoja”

Citi hoppa bus Photo Courtesy of nairobi.go.ke
Citi hoppa bus. Photo Courtesy of nairobi.go.ke

A piercing voice

Two more young men entered the vehicle at the T-junction on Tom Mboya and Haile Selassie, there was no traffic so the bus went faster to the round-about and subsequently to Landhies.

George greeted the lady seated next to him in an attempt to start a conversation which was met with a grin looking face. Nairobi has some of the meanest looking ladies which is ironical that when a pastor from Nigeria jets into the country they flock his meeting, in apparent intervention to God to “show” them a husband. She took of her tablet looked at him placing a value of what he wore then plugged in her earphones and closed her eyes. His smile faded gradually.

Their bus had passed Muthurwa market driven way faster on Landhies and onto Jogoo road then slowly at City stadium round about.

He gazed from the glass window to avoid looking  her. Some seconds thereafter there was commotion on the driver’s seat, other young men stood up kicking and hitting passengers while unplugging bulbs from the bus. A young man in early twenties hit George’s head with a soda bottle sinking his head in his shoulders.

“Leo mtajua sisi ni nani” the young man who was seated behind George shouted while snatching her tablet.

“Mzee leta hiyo simu”, George obliged and put his phone in a green paper bag that the young man used to collect valuables from passengers.

It was evident they had been carjacked; the driver was pinned down on the aisle, next to him was his conductor.

At the back seat a gentleman argued with the thieves that he had Sh 30, 000/= which was rent for that month and two previous ones. He was hit with a metal bar on his left arm shattering his radius. He wailed uncontrollably. The pain was in excruciating.

Ceska pistol

George raised his head to see another thief hitting a pregnant woman’s knees, his eyes almost popped out and immediately protested why the lady was being hit yet they had complied.

he had blundered, he was pulled from his seat together with the lady he was seated next to landing on the lady’s belly. Angered by his protests one of the gang member stood on the aisle pointing a ceska pistol at George’s head raised it then pulled the trigger hitting the matatu’s roof.

“Msidhani hii ni imbo, hii ndeng’a origi “.

The driver took a left turn at Nile road avoiding Jogoo road because there was a police road block at Hamza. They went into Jericho all this while tearing into men’s shirts, hit ladies’ knees, and shouted profanities while taunting all the passengers.

“Serikali gani iko hapa” an alto voice was heard from the back of the bus.

All passengers’ heads were buried in their palms, praying that they would be forgiven after all they had been robbed . After 20 minutes of thorough beating and countless slaps George finally gathered courage to wake up from the lady’s belly. She had passed out.

“Wameenda” the “legitimate” driver told passengers.

He drove the vehicle to Buruburu police station where they recorded their details in the occurrence book popularly known as OB. The bus driver was hard pressed to explain where his conductor had melted to which brought about commotion with passengers’ baying for his blood. The matatu later dropped passengers home with a cop as the driver.