Time: midnight, Place: single girl’s home Event: Conspiracy theory.
For the last two years, my movie guy has been conspiring to launch the perfect intervention aimed at seeking at end to my being not married. Every time I visit his stand to buy movies, he is fast to point me to the romantic comedy section or the Indian movie collection. He is convinced that Jamie Foxx in ‘Annie’ or Cameron Diaz in ‘The Other woman’ or Jah Rule in ‘ am in love with a church girl’ will spark the love candle buried deep where my heart used to be. I have a hundred cheesy movies -girl meets boy- girl feels her thighs flip- boy kisses girl- they argue in the rain- boy and girl hump like rabbits at the end.
So you can imagine my shock last week when he decided to take me through virgin territories-Action Movies and series. I hate action movies- too much blood, and there is always some weak blonde in red lipstick and an oversize blouse waiting to drop her panties, I can’t. There is a reason as to why I watch the Olympics, that reason has got everything to do with time. Olympic Games have a beginning and a very conclusive end complete with a colourful closing ceremony and the dimming of the Olympic torch after fourteen days. I am not going to watch some series with no end in sight, and when I say end In sight I do not mean the last episode of season one, I mean – the final episode – the end – fin- everyone pack up we are done!
I have seen what those incomplete stories do to people and it is not a pretty sight. Junkies, that is what watching those unsure story lines makes you. Every time, I visit my movie guy there is always some nervous guy, rapping through his speech while digging his scalp, asking when the next season of some series will be out. There is always a dreamy girl wondering whether BET has finished shooting single ladies season four just so she can watch Harold House Moore kiss some girl wearing well fitting Victoria secret lingerie on the balcony …I know what you are thinking, That girl is not me, I cannot watch such shows, Harold House Moore is not even that handsome in white! I was not made for that kind of drama.In his infinite wisdom, he decided that it was time for me to watch the much talked about –Scandal. Apparently there was a lady called Olivia Pope with enough brains to fix people and things, to sweeten the deal HE DID NOT GIVE ME A COPY OF FIFTY SHADES OF GREY, NO HE DID NOT!
There is a single girl’s ritual – practiced for centuries by our fore mothers- which must be upheld every day when a single girl gets to the house, I will highlight a brief excerpt from the award winning manual. Upon arrival in your single girl abode, quickly as if on fire, unhook your torturous bra, fall off from your heels, be rid of your skirt, stockings, and underwear if need be. With precision, proceed to the loo and let it all out- all of it, you can use that time to go through your facebook profile or stalk your crush on instagram. Take a shower and refuse all temptations to comb your hair or wear clothes , however cute teddy bear socks are an exception, Raid your kitchen and whip up a five star meal- weetabix, milk, dried fruits and a banana, revert your phone to flight mode and proceed to fall on your couch like a sack of potatoes all set to read a book or watch your new movie all night, pausing only to run to the loo or to brew a fresh pot of lime and vodka. I am a follower of the manual to the letter.
So there I was, with my pink socks and a bowl of cereal and lime and vodka on standby. Scandal Season one, press play. Ignore the rumbling blonde, Enters Columbus Short looking like a fresh fountain of dark chocolate- Columbus Short with lips that whisper- take me and take me now, Columbus short with… Okay you are right, I am having impure thoughts about Columbus short. I will type my confession to some online pastor and explain my sudden heat rush at the mention of Columbus Short…oh damn! Two minutes later, already hot and bothered, enters Olivia Pope in all her glory, spitting fire like the naked boy urinating at the judiciary, spitting venom like R Kelly in that sex tape…okay I am typing my confession now – father forgive me for I have sinned – calm down.
I get it, why all women want to be Olivia pope when they grow up. She got it. She holds it down – whatever that means and whatever that is- She is on the top of her game. She is fine, rocking all those Brazilian weaves and silk blouses, and grey power suits and black heels and a smart phone that does not hang – I have to wait for three minutes before my Samsung phone can display caller identity – and she is not fat, which makes her fast paced walking very sexy and she does not cry, her cute little house is all white, and she gets to swing on Mr. President’s ‘Pipi’ …In all honesty I too would not mind swinging on the commander in chief’s ‘mtree’ – any commander in chief – I am still typing my confession… She gets to hold powerful people at ransom, they do exactly as she wants, no questions asked, do you have any idea of how much I would pay to hold my MCA at ransom- at a dark corner- with no gladiator witnesses – only Jameni’s shaniqwa can spell what I would do to that fellow given the chance, how many heels do I have to lose before he gravels our roads…woshaaay.
Anyway back to Olivia Pope, yes indeed – she is all that. However, would I want to be her? I don’t think so – this does not mean that I have cancelled my request to get familiar with any president’s pipi, or any senator for that matter the offer still stands- but no, I would not want to be Olivia pope and I will tell you why after I get back.There is this guy, who has a habit of knocking on my door at night seeking to play hide the monkey; I want to hide the monkey- all of it.
In the meantime boys and girls, I DID not WATCH fifty shades of grey, I am a law abiding Kenyan citizen who follows the law. However, and this is purely hypothetical, If I had watched the banned film, I would conclude as thus; Anastacia and Grey just needed weed to help them sing ‘I can clearly now, I can see all the obstacles in my way’ I waited for two hours for a dramatic scene to tickle my activism bone and nothing. Anastacia was given a choice and she made her choice to sleep with a man who once in a while will chain her to the wall and spank her pale and deflated rear, she made her choice, like we do every day, and grey, he needed a visit to Michael Jackson’s ranch and a day with the popstar’s monkey to be able to appreciate the original use , application and scope of a good vagina. Had he tried that nonsense in Nyeri…lord have mercy. I will be back to Decipher Olivia. Soon.