Not an ordinary Friday

just another friday

The mood in the office is nothing like pensive. It is a Friday, the first in December and the holiday mood has set in like the sun over the hills in the Mara.  No work is getting done and productivity levels are lower than a light skin’s standards after two cans of guarana and a half assed compliment.

My condolences go to those that have to work the graveyard shift though they are streaming in clad in minis skirts showing legs for days. Time is at a standstill, this must be what it feels like for all those poor souls that traverse the country to get to that godforsaken alienated land as they wait for the myriad of cars to clear up at Nyayo stadium.

The music in my ears is not doing much for my energy, I feel trapped in my body. I want to scream, and shout and let it all out – Britney Spears style. My phone is ringing off the hook and I am getting side looks from my boss so here I am busy typing away on my report. The idea that I am being a little rebellious puts a smirk on my face. This is one smirk that refuses to go, a smirk that lingers, and suggests sinister motives. I do not forgetting that I have a corporate event to attend early the next morning.

It is Friday and some pizza house somewhere along this treacherous stretch of Ngong road is offering free pizzas for every pizza bought – the foodie version of happy hour (Canduh where are you?). However, the problem is that one of our colleagues so it fit to buy 12 pizzas and as you guessed it right they get 12 more free!!! The office space is saturated with the aroma of deep fried spiced chicken cubes and molten mozzarella. The occasional waft of peri peri catches the nostrils and the pangs begin to hit. Forget that I had visited mathe and lined my stomach with what the twitter streets refer to as horse food. Well, screw their opinions I cannot show up to the table of men tummy enlarged by fatty starch all in the name of being cool. I cannot let the dew of the goddesses mesmerize my mortal brain before I can make the best worst decisions of my life.

It’s about that time when I start sending out text messages to the crew and a few potential damsels. You know trying to keep up appearances and maintaining and age-long tradition. When I was growing up a popular beer brand had the tag line ‘baada ya kazi’ so yes, now I do work – when in Rome? Exactly! The crew texts back faster than the bullet that put an end to Michael Brown. The damsels are acting a little bit stuck up; they need some greasing to get things moving – I need to get me a girlfriend ASAP. But that is just a passing thought, a thought that disappears when the night ends as fast as the twilight’s take off their heels and take to their heels (pun intended) when they spot the grey suited rungu wielding city army.

I have ranted, I have raved, and I have lost count of the number of times I have had to look at the clock. At this rate I will have to buy it drinks, take it out for dinner and make things official otherwise I will end up on the clock sexual offenders list. But it is just another Friday, so hey let us have fun and make a few more stupid decisions while we are till young enough to lie with the regret.

P.S  Please remember to make bad decisions responsibly!

Arrgh it’s not yet time somebody kill me now!

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