Of Sex Diaries, Diets and Cloggy Organs…

Of Sex Diaries, Diets and Cloggy Organs…

There should be a law against having wall shaking, bed breaking, floor thudding, window rattling sex, in particular if you live in the above apartment of someone who isn’t getting any, is on a sex restricted diet with ‘cheat days’ or hasn’t gotten any in a while. Surely, it is just good neighborliness, it just makes sense, the same way you wouldn’t eat your KFC bucket meal with extra large fries and 2 extra sides in front of starving kids at a Refugee Camp in Somalia. Morals don’t just permit it.

Okay, bad analogy using the starving orphans of Somalia because I am not starving. Starving would mean that I am hungry yet no food is available, which is wrong as this ‘food’ can be made available, yet I’m choosing not to eat it lol. Maybe I’m becoming Sexnorexic but seriously, it’s been exactly 3 weeks since I last got laid (3 weeks being the last time I had a cheat day but if we wanna talk on a real, I’ll be bringing the celibacy count to a hefty 9 months. As a matter of fact, let’s use 9 months for the purposes of my frustration and this post lol). When I vowed to go on a sex diet back in January, it was hard, the first 4 months were hell, mainly because I was single and had a certain auora that was probably repulsive to men. Honestly, dates were slow. I started telling myself that this time would be good for self reflection blah blah. The gym became my outlet and anything remotely relating to sex was not my portion in Jesus’ Name, I was rejecting it. Total abomination to my life. The 5 months that followed those of celibacy have been completely erotic free,  meaning no sex, no alternatives to sex, no plans to get laid and thinking very little of sex lol, of course, this is in exception of my ‘cheat days/weeks’ where the above does not apply. It’s kinda like being on a diet, the first 3 weeks are hard (apparently, it takes that long for your pallet to change) then you get used to the diet and it becomes second nature. You then start to wonder how a few weeks back you could possibly eat a few cakes 3x a day then wake up in the middle of the night for a banana or two for hunger control.

So having successfully kept my apartment a semi-sexfree zone for 9 months, you can imagine my frustration of having to endure night after night of Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, ha ha ha, Oh Johnny, Johnny, ha ha ha, Johnny, ha ha ha Oh Johnny, Oh Oh Ooooh……..Seriously, how many times can one say Oh Johnny in a minute followed by laughter then thuds, rattling, more ha ha ha’s, a few Johnny’s, a couple of Oh’s, more rattling and ha ha ha’s, a very high pitched Johnny then comes my favorite part of the evening…….Silence! Total silence. 9 months is a very long time in the land of sex so maybe I’m a tad out of touch but since when has sex become so funny, that one has to say an average of 20 ha ha ha’s in one minute? I know for a fact that Johnny upstairs is not Chris Rock or Kevin Hart, he is an Electrician by trade so naturally, my curiosity got the best of me. I need to know the cause/source of those ha ha ha’s so anyone on here with a hyperactive imagination to break it down for me? LOL.

So when was the last time you had noisy, bed breaking, window rattling, wall shaking, floor thudding, mind-blowing sex? (Please, no answers on postcards lol, keep your answers to yourselves). But seriously though, whoever told you people that making more noise or making the apartment building experience a mini earthquake means you are enjoying the sex a whole lot? Once upon a time, in an era long gone, the most I could manage were broken down syllable words – anything more comprehensible meant that I wasn’t yet blown away. I didn’t laugh during either LOL. I’m not hating on my horny neighbors upstairs or cursing at the building company for making low quality apartments with paperthin walls……all I’m saying is it’s September, almost Christmas time and Santa, for Christmas I would like one giant pair of ear muffs, or even better, send me a fairy godmother to wave her magic wand so that just for one day, there is no mind-blowing, window rattling, floor thudding, mini earthquake, bed breaking sex in this city.


Boys 2 Men Definitely Didn’t Sing A Song About All Mama’s….


I’ve never been good at keeping promises which continues to blow my mind as I can’t seem to stop making them. I know I had promised (in my head) to blog at least every week but I blame Google for making me choose a password I would have trouble remembering after a few weeks…..I also blame my mama. Speaking of which, if you were to ask me how I feel about mhamha, I’d probably rattle off the politically correct response…..she’s my best friend, on her I can always depend…..I trust her and I would probably die for her. If you were to ask me the same question whilst I was under the influence of alcohol then I might just add the vomit induced quote, “If I were to change a thing about mhamha, I wouldn’t even change a thing blah blah….” Get the drift, right? OK! All lies I tell you. First of all, before you get all judgmental up in here, let me clear off a few things about mhamha – she is not my best friend. In fact, she’s not my friend. Period! She’s just mhamha, not a pal, not a BFF but just mhamha. Before you get judgmental again, this feeling is absolutely mutual, she often screams (and this is a direct quote minus the booming voice and impending slap), ” Miss Felistas, wakuda kundijairira manje. Handisi shamwari yako…” I’ll translate as best as I can to English but that’s taking away from the impact, “Miss Felistas, don’t play with me ooh, I’m not your friend.  Play with someone your age before I tattoo that behind please…” See, it doesn’t get any more mutual than this hehe.


As for changing a thing about mhamha, boy, who am I kidding LOL. Trust me, if I had a chance I would (For those familiar with these TV Shows) 60 Minute Makeover/Grand Design/Home Improve my mama if I could. Gone would be the belt wielding woman who dances dangerously close to a culpable homicide charge when she tries to put you on to the straight and narrow. Believe me please, when mhamha is done with you in her effortless disciplinary fashion, you’ll be more bent and crooked than when she would have started working on you. My mother literally loves me with a vengeance LOL. My relationship with mhamha is like traveling on a budget no-frills airline. It generally does what it’s supposed to do but once a while will surprise you with a hell lot of nasty shocks, like £20 for airport check-in, £10 per bag of hand-luggage and an extra £5 for paying by Debit Card. Mhamha is sneaky like that too, you’re constantly feeling like you’ve been punk’d. At least with the budget airlines it will all be in the small print but with my mum, she makes the rules as she goes, in true fashion of an African Dictator. Nah, forget it, there is nothing remotely typical about my mama LOL.


As for dying for mhamha, truth be told, that’s definitely a moot point. If a weapon of mass destruction was pointed towards mhamha and I and the gun-man said, Hey, you two decide who we are kissing Es Ta La Vista baby to, I’m not too sure that I would necessarily volunteer myself for this virtuous deed. Hold on your judgment please and let me break it down – I am a loyal and loving daughter and you can call me Judas Iscariot or morbid but speaking on a real, would it not make more sense morally for mama to be the sacrificial lamb? I mean she’s in her 50’s, been there, done that, worn that T-shirt until it turned from White to Grey with age LOL. She’s had the husband, a jet-setting lifestyle, executive positions, good salary, 4 children and 4 grandchildren who all haven’t turned out half bad (yes, me included LOL) so I think it would be quite selfish of her if she refused to be the Isaac to my Abraham (any non-Christians please see me)…


Speaking of the one I would trust/depend on, it will only be in a life or death situation like plucking me out of a burning house or for dragging me from under a moving bus but for anything else other than that, hmmmm, she would completely betray me even without the prospect of financial gain, RE: Judas Iscariot LOL. My mother would be the first to ask the headmaster to expel you from school for indecent exposure (instead of pleading with him to let you stay in school). Never mind that the indecent exposure in question would be allowing your first junior high boyfriend a sneak peek at your budding nipple-less mini boobs during PE lol (No, that wasn’t me thankfully, it was my sister and if in doubt, check her behind for evidence scars).


I won’t pretend like most of you do that I am best-friends with my mother. Mimi and Sharon, my BEST FRIENDS who have no relation whatsoever to mama are the ones I tell all about my secret fantasies about men at least twice my age and how my antics during a game of Truth or Dare could have me ex-communicated with society if they ever got out in the public eye.  See, telling all these things to my BFFs has no repercussions, they would probably hoot with laughter and trade my stories with their own kinky, dirty, often bad girl ones that borderline illegal.  This is what true bestfriends do. My mother who is not my best friend would literally castrate me if I tried to confess to such abominations (but thank God she is not my BFF and I don’t have a dick )….. but she would definitely hurl me in front of the local priest so that he could baptize such demonic behavior out of me. Surely that is no best friend behaviour!


Did I mention that my mother also has ‘super powers’ that are able to detect the tiniest threat of sexual activity before she even sets eyes on you? Mhamha not only preaches abstinence but damn well ensures that it is practiced with the ruthlessness of an African Dictator. My mother is up there with the Hitchcocks and Mafia’s of the abstinence world. For example, mhamha hypocritically states that thighs should be reserved for the eyes of the husband but with the same mouth, she says to my sister, “What kind of a married woman wears such a thing?” The thing in this instance being some tight shorts, ironically, that my sister was wearing for a night out with her husband. Clearly, there is no pleasing some people.


Just in case mhamha is lurking somewhere in blogshere LOL. Now mum, you know better than to believe everything you read on the internet, especially from an amateur blog that less than 5 people read. You know you and I are much closer than the 3000+ miles that separate us. I love you so much mhamha and that’s not only on Mother’s Day and on your 2 birthdays. I have dedicated this post to you because I know you will read it but mostly because you have moulded me into the person I am today. Without your guidance, I would have been nothing – a nobody. I say I am NOTHING but my mother’s child because that is all I am.

I really, really, REALLY love you mama so don’t you dare allow this blog to convince you otherwise. You’re my superwoman and Boys 2 Men Definitely sung a song about you.