Your call

You’re super intelligent. You have lots of opinions and you voice them rather candidly. You know how to work a room, any room – a boardroom, a sunroom, a bedroom. You’re a bit cocky, but you blend it quite naturally with charm. It helps that you’re not too shabby in the looks department and you sure can rock an outfit. Wherever you stand, be it on your lawn in Kitisuru. Your bedsitter in Kileleshwa. Your fifth floor window, overlooking sprawling Kibera. You see only opportunity in your range of vision.  You’ve got huge dreams, and you’ve got a five-year-plan to achieve them. You can feel it, the vibrant energy of the springboard upon which you stand. You’re unstoppable and the world truly is your oyster.

But something happens to you when you make merry. You become loud and obnoxious. A blubbering drunk. A ballet dancer with chunky feet. An opera singer with a scratchy voice. Or maybe not. Maybe, you are the quiet type. The kind that speaks in a hushed tone, when the brain gauge blinks total intoxication. Either way, your presence of mind soon goes AWOL. “Please! I’m not that drunk. This car knows its way home.”

Mhh. Famous last words.

Seriously. Don’t say them again. Unless of course, your five-year-master-plan includes a wheelchair or another life. Or the guilt of ruining some random person’s five-year-master-plan. In which case, by all means, let your genius car take you home. A taxi couldn’t possibly measure up, right?

 

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4 Comments

  1. Hey would you mind letting me know which web host you’re using?
    I’ve loaded your blog in 3 different browsers and I must say this blog
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    a fair price? Cheers, I appreciate it!

  2. Yes, taking the tipple and gambling with life, if someone has to drink and drive then let them drink milk only. Very true DUI does ruin lives.
    Great writing there.

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