Notes From An Idle Mind: The Blackout Edition

By • Sep 14th, 2011 • Category: Notes From An Idle Mind

I’m beginning to think there may actually be a part of me that’s wired to the electricity grid.  Seriously. Any time power decides to retire from active service, my productivity levels fall. Except when I’m hanging out.

Then, I suspect, I’m powered by the same liquid coursing through a randy campuser trying to bench a chick that is clearly only hanging with him because his bank balance has the flamboyance of a gay French painter.

Any discerning reader at this point should be able to tell that I’m typing this out under the influence of Umeme. To say that I’m bright whilst there’s elec would be selling myself short, I’m actually on fire.

Now, I find myself wondering whether there’s any pool table near my place. It’s a thought my grey matter has worked tirelessly to cultivate owing to my current surroundings being associated with possessing great pork and (of all things) weed.

You know something is up when you’re trying to give a boda boda guy directions to your place of abode and he identifies it as “wali owa Bobi Wine”.

Incidentally, am I the only one that thinks that with the whole ghetto rep that this dude has built himself, a fitting honeymoon location would be anywhere outside of the ghetto? No high expectations there, “Bobi ne Barbie bagenze ku honeymoon wali mu Bugolobi Flats”

Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t help but wonder whether an impromptu weed sting these ends would be greeted with rage or fire. It would certainly be nice to go to work, blood shot eyes giddily dancing in your skull and assuring your boss that you just narrowly survived an introduction ceremony involving riot police and a tear gas canister… that was suspiciously flavored with some weed.

Sadly, pork is pork. No one ever gains sympathy where swine are concerned. Not even the chap who claims he was run over by the half burnt carcass of a pig that paused briefly over his mouth, had bits of itself fall in and then went on in the pursuit of greener pastures…do pigs give a shit about pastures?

Wouldn’t it be great if the power company took the time to send out text messages when your power came back? I mean, they are quick to tell you when it will be off, common courtesy would dictate that they also tell you when it’s back. I don’t want to come across as greedy by suggesting that they should call you and inform you about the triumphant albeit short-lived return.

I’ve spoken to some customer service guys here there and truth be told I’d much rather have a conversation with a pair of mismatched slippers suffering from an identity crisis. I’m pissed off as it is, the last thing I want to listen to on the other end of a conversation is the call center theme music followed by someone droning on and on about how my patience has put his kids through school. I’ll have you know that his malicious activities may determine whether I have any kids to put through school to begin with. “Sorry darling, we can’t do it in the dark, what if you miss?”

In my opinion, the most nerve wrecking thing about blackouts is that I find myself actually looking forward to going to the office. That has got to be the freakiest thing ever.

I can’t, for the life of me, imagine anyone that may have such zeal for work aside from say the guys that host Top Gear or the dude that samples the wares of a brothel to make sure that they are fit for consumption.

Don’t turn your nose up at me, what you’ve been seeing can’t be classified as brothel material. It’s homegrown produce with an affinity for smelling like cheap washing soap.

I digress. The last thing I want to be thinking about after a long day of work is WORK and yet that’s where my thoughts dart off to whilst I lay in the dark wondering what the Offer of Employment letter for the load shedding dude looks like.

What’s with that anyway? Do they actually say from time to time you will be expected to cause untold/copious amounts of grief to your fellow countrymen? Also, what does he do all day while he waits for the appointed hour(s)? Does he actually chill on facebook poking people and leaving silly comments on their photos, “OMG U R DA BOMB, BAMBI LOL :)”? {why isn’t Microsoft Word trying to correct the spellings in that last line?}

Does he leave inappropriate LIKES lying around?

You know the ones. Where you write something gut wrenching and deserving of a pat on the back and the promise that the sun will come out tomorrow then some idiot comes along and likes it.

“Boniface is miserable because his pet cat, Sarajevo, that fed him when he was on the verge of starving to death, has been run over by a truck from National Water and Sewerage Corporation” then, in the midst of the consolation messages, some idiot comes along and hits LIKE. What’s up with that?

Wouldn’t you know it, no elec and way too many words for a post. I ought to start seeking that ganja flavored pork over a game of pool.

 

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About Ivan

doesn't get why you feel compelled to force an accent when you're talking to summers