I hate rats and how they do things. The whole ‘surprise’ act they try to pull off is just something I find annoying and I have had problems adjusting to. These little bastards have a whole house to themselves to perform whatever exercises but you wonder why they decide that running through your legs is good for cardio (exercises of the heart). You can be watching your peacefully TV and these rascals decide that now is the time to dash from one corner to another. While I wouldn’t have a problem with them socialising and bonding in my space, my issue is with their timing. They simply have no order. How hard is picking a day, communicate it to me and I could gladly show you around the house? If you want my clothes for a meal, give me a memo and I will oblige. Order!!! That’s all I ask of the rat community. I don’t like surprises.
Like you would have guessed, I was there enjoying my ka series on TV with my eyes glued to the screen and minutes into the whole thing, these little bastards decide that today is “Run Around The House” day without any clearance from anyone. Instincts obviously had to dictate that I scream, jump and remove my feet from the ground and stand on the chair. Before I knew it, people were all around me preaching to me about how I should stop being a coward and “Be A Man”. Really? I am no coward. I just despise anything rats represent let alone their love for surprises. When I see a rat and jump on a table, don’t assume that it is a defensive mechanism but more of a reflex action that can be linked to disgust. My body and mind are in conflict. It’s not fear I assure you. Anyway, Ugandans will send you to a pack of wolves because apparently it’s a “manly” thing to do.
You are celebrated as a man when you appear to embrace risk or stare shame in the face. Power will go off and your woman will want to send you to the transformer to go and fix things. A transformer? Really? If you decline, she will make you a subject of her salon small talk about how her man “is not man enough”. Jeez no. There is no way, I am climbing an electric pole to earn a certain level of “man-ness”. It’s just not happening.
When I see a traffic officer from a distance, you cannot tell me to go and ‘face him like a man’ when I clearly know he will be demanding his ‘lunch’ that I don’t have. A chick you are vibing will reject you and people expect you to take it as man yet the honourable thing could have been to throw her off a cliff for missing out on genuine happiness. I don’t have to see hideous men walk my direction in the dark and be a man to first exchange pleasantries. I run. Yes I will be out of that place in no time. No questions asked. If we are on a night out with friends and I evidently came alone, I am paying for my own drinks .Those things of paying for drinks of Sylvia, Gloria and her next of kin do not happen all in the name of “Be a man”. You are on your own, darlings. You are a man in his late 30’s who has never swam in his life so why are you taking your Disney shorts to the deep end? What are you looking for? Death? Be a man and sit it out. Leave swimming and go home. Nice weekend guys.
