Randtom Thourtgs

The general public will be back from Rukungiri soon. The thought makes me nervous. Gen Pub will click on to see what the internet got up to while they were in the rurals, and will sneer at me when all that appears is bits of poetry. I don't mind what other bloggers think, because they are also geekazoids, but the general public makes me self-concious. So, to distract from the previous post, and keep this seat warm until the next, presenting: Randomi thurogitts

• No smoking.
• How ya Livin' is yet another nineties' hip hop phrase that has succumbed to the ravages of time.
• Things you will never hear in real life: "Hi, I'm Jessica Alba." "I don't care."
• I hate Paris Hilton. I don't even know her but I hate her. I don't even know anything about her. I don't watch or read tabloid news, and I asked, politely but firmly, that the family and friends shoot me dead the minute they find me watching the Simple Life, but I still hate the woman. With that deep sulphurous loathing that curls from within and rises with groaning echoes from the dark canyons within the soul, echoes that sound meaningless and muted but soon begin to resolve themselves into the words kill, Kill, KILL!
• When I got home from the Blu*3 Unplugged show on Thursday, one of the Kireka gangstas (the ilk exists. For no particular reason) posed this question: "Were they wearing naked?"
  He said it in Luganda.
• Is this funny or is this sad? Freshly chopped human head. (Credit for the find). It is funny. Funny.
• New Years Resolution: Never write a long blog post again.
• This just in: Nigga, where my money at? Nsaba, who is too enthusiastic to adhere to his own principles, isn't enthusiastic enough to pay up on time. I know people like that.