There is this chic pal of my small sis, I'll call her J. You see J is a chic who is kinda rough around the edges, you know the kind of chic who is loud, doesnt hesitate to get into a fight, loves to drink and such. Anyway J works with my sis but a month or so left to go to Kenya on hols, so we decided to send her with some stuff to give my mum. My mum knows J, they met when my mum last visited us here and when they met J was on her best behaviour so my mum pretty much didnt mind her. But during the visit to Kenya the worm turned......
Like I said earlier, we had sent J with some things to give my mum; so he went to visit her. When she went it seems that she had left her good behaviour script at home. This is because when she went there it seems that she had one or two for the road and was very loud at the time. Oh she had come with her brothers who were driving her around, so she was also talking to them telling them who my mum was and how she knew her. What got to me is the way she had the nerve to blab how I'm going to get a major job and ish, yes I told her that I was job hunting; but I didnt ask her to go around spraying my business all over the damn place. This is the same chic who when she was here was complaining about how Kenyans are always in other people's business and can't shut up. Anyway here comes the icing on the cake, the chic brings up some long story about how they have to go see their mum in shags and how the car they have is someone else's and beg my mum for her car.
So against her misgivings my mum hooks them up and tells them to bring it back by Sunday evening for servicing. No they didn't have an accident but she brought the car back one day late and it was smelling of cigarette smoke. Of course my mum really told her off, but for real; this was the chic who was always telling us about the ballers she knew in Kenya. Why couldn't she borrow one of their cars instead of borrowing my mum's car when she barely knows her and even worse bring it back late and smelling? The candles on the cake? After being told off and her "apologising", she has the bottle to tell my mum that they should get together and catch some pints. I was like wtf?! Even looking at my mum you would tell that she doesn't drink, my mum has no problem with other people drinking, she'll even buy you a beer but the only thing she ever drinks is the occasional Guinness ( she says it is good for iron) and those concoctions with brandy for your chest when you have a cold. Besides anyone who grew up in Kenya knew that older folk were the ones who would invite you to drink with them if they deemed you mature enough and not for you to take you ass there offering beers.
Needless to say after that turn of events my small sis was sent e-mails telling her to put that chic at arms' length and when my sis called home after the usual niceties, she was given a long lecture about that because irregardless of those actions my mum also told my sis she just has a bad feeling about her. And you know about womens' intuition, it only gets better when women get older. So I guess in my case that is one less person to call a friend, and I guess she embodies the saying, " You can fake style, but you can't fake class."
Moving onto more uplifting issues. For some reason my eyes were fixed on one section of this picture. I'm sure you don't have to guess.....
pic courtesy of C&D
Regular programming will resume as soon as regular life resumes
