MELANIN

There is something intrinsic when you see a lady whose skin is naturally espousing its deep-seated melanin pigment. Dark ladies are lovely and fair enough they have a sexy charm that is associated with dark berries. Black is beautiful. Walai! These ladies are real and angelic. They look dapper, supple, glamorous, and fairly young. And there is a certain glimmering glow in a lady who is naturally black. The one who does not hide in makeup. Even if she does, it is the kind of face foundation which seamlessly blends with the colour of her skin. She is not afraid to walk in the colours that make her who she is. And most of all, a dark lady full of melanin is just mwah! She stands out and will get noticed. And she is charming, has a bubbly personality, and what else, she is every man's fetish. Well, we have so many brown and light skins and that makes a dark-skinned lady exotic and quixotic. The wonderful ones we eschew because men like fairer-skinned ladies. Forget that notion of men subconsciously being attracted to ladies with a wheatish hue. Only a man who has tasted a darker berry knows the sweetness of the flavour.

A few days ago, I met a pretty chic and she was dark and lovely. We have aesthetic preferences as human beings. Hitherto, I thought I had a kibosh with light-skinned ladies until I met this new catch on Tinder. Yes, I am on Tinder. Like the average Joe, I went on Tinder to look for a relationship. Not an intimate one, just something of a meet-up and getting to know a new person. This certainly excludes the male folk. Over time, I have unmatched so many ‘prospects’ that Tinder considers my type because I just do feel them after the usual ‘Hi’. I guess Tinder is not for folks like me. I have unmatched more than thirty ladies for no apparent reason ever since I joined that platform.

How did I discover Tinder? Funny enough, I was reading about a beleaguered spouse who found out that her man was eyeing other fine babes because her single friend had bumped into his man on Tinder. I decided to also give it a try and see what’s cooking there and it was fine. Better than Badoo which I was also on but never got a date because the damn thing is full of adverts which are so boring. You even hate being on Badoo.

Now that Tinder is also on the shirt of Red Devil football fans, allow me to intimate about it.

I go to Tinder to look at how Kenyan chics look for men if that is the real purpose of this App. They have a lackluster profile, take random pictures that are not even edited, and lastly, they never say niceties about themselves. Is it not a turnoff for somebody to tell you what to do? Ati a lady tells you that if you like her, then swipe right. Shit men, that is something that comes naturally.

The kind of profiles on Tinder are so weak that you may confuse the intention of the seeker. Well, someone told me that kizuri chajuiza, na kibaya chajitembeza. That proverb can be misinterpreted because we have some of the best brands in the world advertising more than the bland establishments that are so mundane we just look at them and feel nothing. Rarely do you find ladies who have taken professional photos, wore sensuous and colorful clothes that liven their personality, pose in a way that even if she is not pretty, you swipe right. I think having a sense of style, dressing to flirt (showing some hint of skin), applying makeup properly and taking photos that are expertly done makes a lady stand out. We men are visual creatures who are driven wild by how ladies present themselves. A well-executed casual vibe in a bodycon dress, lets us ogle the curves. And you want the eyes staring at the sex appeal because of the sensual and flirty feel that comes with a body-fitting dress. You can easily swoon a man just by the fact that you look nice and sexy and the next thing is that he will be glancing hints of lust in his eyes and a band if captured. Enough said.

Because I am the kind who does not read a person’s bio, I tend to go to Tinder to Swipe right. Sometimes I look at other snaps of a probable bae, unfortunately I tend to like all the pictures of girls with more than one real photo. Given that I am not using a smart phone, I normally click the red heart shape and wait till Tinder says ‘You have a match’. Then when it does, I say ‘Hi’ then wait if the lady will respond. If she does not, ‘Haisulu’. There will always be another oner next time.   I am not addicted to this App as such because I am certainly not looking for love. I am a bit uneasy with girls sometimes. Those days when Tinder never matches me, I keep on swiping right till I am prompted to now subscribe if I want to continue swiping right. I am the type of can’t pay won’t pay mentality. That takes me about 5 to 10 minutes. Then I am off the app because there is nothing fascinating for a bachelor of my ilk there.

The first chic I was supposed to meet was interested in a relationship that could lead to marriage whereas I was not sure whether I wanted to have that then as now. As long as I am not financially stable, I will not lie that I will be going to have a girlfriend soon. That shall not happen. She gave me her number, we chatted for a while but again, I thought she was a slay queen who looked like a high maintenance chic that I could not sustain with my meagre income, as such, I did cut communication and voila, I was back to Tinder again. In search for something that could lead to a friendship that may ultimately lead to a relationship and lastly marriage.

Allow me to brag that men have the marriage card that they dangle like a carrot to would be bride. We are like employers who dilly dally around with jobs hoping to find the right candidate in the process. Most times, because of indecision, we end making the wrong choice. A while ago, I remember telling myself that I was going to stick to one lady come what may. Look at me now, this is probably the umpteenth time I am struggling to get into a relationship with a girl.

While swiping right, I saw this girl who kind of looked familiar. She was leggy, and the thighs looked fuller in those high highs she wore. She was bestowed with a lovely baby face, full of smile and a fine physique. She had a few professionally done photos that made her look gorgeous. In them, you could not tell that she is a dark skin. She looked like she is chocolate complexioned which I sometimes love especially if the lady is tall, slender but has everything in the right places. Later I realized she was a petite babe which was kind of a turnoff. Never mind that a certain dude once told me to try a lady who was shorter than me. Like really short but not a midget. That once I have gone to bed with such a lady, I will look for his number after engaging in the devil’s dance. Three years down the line, I am yet to sleep with a short lady as he described them.

Let me call this lady Claire, a name that is chocolatey and sweet like eclairs. I recently ate eclairs and I remembered that I need to keep my teeth good.

It took us almost two weeks before we met. Obviously, I am the type who talks about random stuff aside from the usual greeting. I normally ask the pedestrian questions, give dull suggestions and all that stuff that a guy who does not know how to vibe a lady will do. But first, a lady has to visually quench my visual acuity before I delve into matters intelligence and all that. Whether this will be friendship or something I take to the next level, I am a guy of first I love what I see.

Our date was to be in town at a neutral place. I chose KFC because I normally work on a side hustle and most of the projects I do are sometimes associated with this eatery. Given that she was a student, I could tell that she would love the place because students rarely visit such places because of monetary issues. Plus, she was a chic, and an aura that is classy like KFC not forgetting the trusted and iconic food which naturally excites the nerves because there is the probability of eating those semi-emulsified, extra-crunchy, amazingly moist and crispy skin chicken that trigger primal urges even though the chicken has secret ingredients that they never want to let us know.

That settled, I had to think of where to get money because I was broke having paid my dues and operating on just a few hundreds. I had thought we would meet on a Friday, but it turned out that she was working that day. She gave me a suggestion and I being the overzealous zealot accepted the offer. Luckily my soft loan platforms came in handy.

“I am in a blue dress.” She told me. She suggested we meet in Kencom. I had noticed her well before she told me she was in a blue dress. She was dark complexioned, and I remember cursing and saying, “Why did I have to bring myself to this?” Every story is usually a climax or an anticlimax.

A quick search on Facebook and Twitter did not reveal any details about her. Later on, when she had given we her phone number is when I realized that she had a YouTube account. On that platform, she looked different. Really different. I regretted the idea of why I had even contemplated and organized a date. But I consoled myself that her pictures on Tinder were what I was going to rely on. The older pics were not as elegant as the most recent ones. They were what I can term as unplanned pictures taken arbitrarily. Then she had not realized that she can be a fine girl that men would love. She was in short a plain Jane back then. But looking at her now, she had toned, was going to the gym and maintained her body shape. She asked if I had turned my back to look at her when she went to the ladies but I never. I had asked if she works out and returned it with that question of taking a glimpse at her ass.

Whereas she was a black beauty, the fact that she had taken care of her body very well made her a good date. She had fuller hips, a nice ass and lastly an athletic body. You could tell that she did not have a tummy. Aint that charming.

Ideally I had speculated that she was not going to turn up. And being the guy who had long lost hope in women, I thought she was not going to keep her end of the bargain. Which is typical of most ladies. So, the day of the meeting, I spent a lot of time on Excel trying to muster some concepts that I intend to use later on.

You see, my Tinder was indicating that I was more than 2600 miles away from where I was. And given that I was joking about the meeting, I was sitting content that this chic who was probably in a Middle East country working for some Arab was also probably smiling and thinking of how she had duped a Kenyan dude. If you open a platform and realize that someone is thus far, what can you do given that I had not even asked for her number. Obviously, I had format deleted the prospects of the date immediately after asking if we could go for a date. I concluded that this was as good as the crush you will never meet. So, I disengaged the excitement notion of a date and engaged the status quo of expecting nothing. I slept forgetting that I was supposed to go for a date the next day at noon.

Apparently, she never forgot that were going for a date at KFC. If it was a mature lady, say working class, I think I would have suggested an eatery that is less frequented by the hubris of Nairobian middleclass. A place where you can talk and even be intimate.

On the planned meeting day, I was doing some solo projects and when it was the normal working break for lunch, I decided to log into Bluestacks to check if the lady had communicated. I use it to house my Android because I think I love analogue phones more. She had also left her number telling me to call and act like the gentleman I had reputed myself to be. That day, I was tackling the Indirect function in excel. The fact that this lady provided her number meant that she was serious. She really meant business.

At 1240, she had left a note that I had stood her up. That was not even true because she later told me that she was in town a few minutes past one. Having gone to other dates with other ladies, I know that if you are to meet a random chic, she will come some hours late. There was a chic who kept me waiting more than two hours and when she called that she had arrived, I told her that I was already in the digs. At least, we ended up sharing the hurt because when we were to meet, she had decided to go somewhere else and I am not the patient type. Ati nikae nikikula pole pole kwa café, not my thing. The next time, that chic was the first to arrive because she decided to reschedule the date. But I was late by about 5 minutes and the way she was threatening me, I even had to apologize.

Having learnt that chics are always late for a date, I never even bothered to prepare to show up in time. Since I work from home, I only decided to take a quick shower after I had confirmed that she was waiting in town and would not be gone in an hours’ time which was duration it would take me to get to town if you factor in traffic. Owing to the fact that I had assumed this chic was in the middle east, I still was not cock sure until I saw her. At least she was honest about this blind date.

Seeing that she had dropped her number, I called before heading to town and she confirmed where she was. She was the fourth chick leaving me her number on Tinder. Yenyewe madem waKenya love big guys. Even a certain light skinned slay queen who had taken various photos in clubs like Kiza, a joint like Mercury lounge, with solialites like Huddah and in expensive cars and hotels wanted to see me when I swiped right on her profile on Tinder. I later unmatched her because she had a tummy and I am not going to tolerate such a lady unless she has my kids with me. This lady I was meeting also told me she was expecting a big guy with muscles and big arms. Photoshop nayo. Kwani nilijifunza Photoshop ya nini. It rectifies those blemishes and inadequacies that I have as a person. Si even celebrities photoshop themselves.

Claire told me that she rarely gets matched with dudes. I am thinking of creating a female profile on Tinder, downloading an app that can change my voice so that a person on the other end thinks that I am a lady when talking and then setting a date with a dude. Perv. I don’t think that will ever happen though because I love laughing a lot. I remember after finishing high school, I used to do that to a number of guys using my cousin’s Chinese phone.  There was one we chatted with for so long that he promised he was going to buy me fish and chips. That was not to be because there was a day I forgot to put the voice in female mode and he busted me as a result.

I had never known how Tinder works for ladies. Claire schooled me that she rarely gets matched. Which is how it should be by the way. A girl should wait for a dude to make the first move. If he does not, then you might not get a good response if you take it upon yourself to do the onus. My folly is that I don’t believe I can find a girl worth her salt on a platform like Tinder. When it comes to Claire, she does not look like a person who should be on that platform. She is gorgeous and pretty and her beauty is on another level. Maybe, I might be wrong, but she really is more than meets the eye. In this case, she is a better version of what you see in the pictures.

Me meeting her was a gamble. I had lost all hope in seeing a lovely and pretty chic whose body accentuates femininity. Her figure was nice, her face lean and feline. And she looked fine and spruced up for the occasion.

Certainly, I had wanted her to find me at an eatery. However, when she said she did not know some parts of the city, I decided to meet her near Kencom. I wanted to pull the Hilton thingy, but you know I am not good in magnifying situations.

When I spotted her, she was with a lady and a male colleague who she worked with. Being a little bit nervous, I went to her, but she told me to wait for a few minutes to finish with her buddies. Turns out that my blind dates have been with black beauties. Never mind that I don’t let the date progress after the first meeting. The first was about a decade ago, when I had just finished high school and wanted to connect with a female.

She finished with the dude and I had to accompany the two ladies to a copier to duplicate some of the documents they use for work. We went to a certain optical shop that also offered photocopy services. When they finished, we parted ways with her colleague and decided to walk to KFC. On our way, she told me she worked as a brand ambassador, a better name for a salesperson and that is how we clicked. She was working in sales and I had been a salesman before.

It happened that Claire is a a sanguine in temperament. Or perhaps she was buoyed and expressive that day. I could feel her touchy hands on my arms, her energy which was playful in a kind of way. I felt like she was feeling safe with me. Her tone was friendly, and it’s like I had known her for a very long time. I loved her sense of humour and the delectable giggles.

I was mistaken about KFC thinking that it would offer a serene environment that is luxurious and quieter. Turns out that the first thing I noticed was the level of noise. I can only imagine the chaos that would characterize the scene had it been a movie. Looks like I hate noise. I had to attest to it being an impediment to a good meal because sometimes some guys like us love it when the environment is calm before partaking of a meal. The fact that the eatery was so packed and the walls in the eatery not made with acoustic panels to absorb the sound was quite a pesky experience.

I intimated this later while filling the survey that promised to give me a bucket of 21 pieces of chicken even though I know that that is a white lie. My statistical knowledge on random numbers has made me never to love things to do with chance. That is the reason why I have not been betting or engaging in gambling. Like Buffet my mantra is never to lose money. The corollary is also true. Turns out that I never ate any of the meal offered that day at the eatery, I only drunk soda. I had eaten some mlima (meat heavy on bones laced with chili pepper to form the soup) and a litre of Ugali (I measured one litre of water that day) and finished the ugali. Compounded by the fact that I also drank a glassful of mango smoothie, I could not stomach those pieces of chicken. I never even took super that day. Claire kept asking me why I was not eating. But I was too full to add more into my system. It happens that she also hated the sauce preferring the more common Peptang sauce that is thick and tasty. I think she can never be friends with my sister who is addicted to Heinz.

What I love about her is that she is the kind of lady who rarely delves on the unknown. That is why she refused to take Krushers preferring soda instead.

I must compliment Claire for being such a lively and bubbly chic. We talked about so much. To ensure I remain focused to the conversation between she and I, I sat in a submissive position with my back facing other people. She was in a dominant position with her back facing the wall. I loved the confidence she had feeling at ease with her all that time we were together.

Guess she saw me as a potential groom but that is water under the bridge. I still want to remain tight lipped and preserve the best for the last. But I will go for another date with her once she comes form holiday.

Did I have a perfect time with her? Yes. She was not the kind who keeps on telling me that she needs to harry somewhere that day. I hate dates that are characterized by haste. That is why I never go for dates anymore.

I think fine chics should not be on Tinder. But what can betray us sometimes is our level of exposure. I noticed that Claire was not as highly exposed as some of the slay queens in Nairobi. I saw it in her face and nails that were untended because they were plain. But something amazing is that there was this waiter who could never get enough of her. He kept drooling at her and even came to our table to ask if she had requested for something. He came almost twice. Guess this Claire chic is a magnet. Like I said she had a charm in her and a potential she has failed to exploit.

Unfortunately, she is conservative and hates trying out new things. There are meals she saw and said that she would rather stick to chicken even though she prefers Fish to chicken. We all have our inhibitions at the end of the day. After more than three hours together, I walked her to the bus stage and she gave me a nice hug even though I was conjuring how I was going to give it to her in the event she refused to give me one.

Need I say that I slept a happy man.

Hasta La Vista BABY.

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT

You are told by colleagues that you have been invited to a Diwali event. As a matter of fact, there is no official communication or card for the event which would mean you have gatecrashed. It’s a word of mouth invitation that you could not resist so that you could have something to scribe about at the end of it all. The event is happening where you work. Just five floors from the office you work as a casual labourer because the employer insists on payment per day. If you miss a single day, you never qualify for that day’s wages. Fair enough.

Kenyan Indians are still reclusive in their tendency of holding themselves apart from Africans yet they live and will be interred in Kenya. They are still beholden to the colonial mentality that they are superior to Africans because of the pecking order created by the Brits. Rarely do they mingle in their centred life and though this is unsettling and you just love observing how things revolve, you take note of this eccentricity. Because of this, you never want to awaken the sleeping dogs. The lacuna existent is really authentic. When you meet them in the lifts, the coldness in their eyes is subtle. You feel like you are intruding into their already sheltered life that is insistent on being doled up in a bubble of inhibition. Rarely do you see Indians mingling with Africans. Even in school, they segregate themselves apart from those times when it is really urgent.

That maybe a tad too callous but the reality is that, Indians will still view African Kenyans with some sought of suspicion. Let me say this, in logic, we were told not to generalize. So as a matter of consequence, there is that ‘some’ before the word Indians were applicable. Currently, I have no Indian pal to demystify the myths surrounding the tense relationship that will not be amended sooner in terms of how they view Africans. Judging by the way the Muhindis have created that Berlin Wall in terms of residences, apart from those who are rebels or the clique who are monetarily endowed and don’t mind living with Africans, there is no denial that there is hyper-sensitivity and existential disdain among the two races.

Diwali week it was. You remember those days when you were young and loved the fanfare of lighting up cheap fireworks during these period and there was no cause of alarm apart from the few incidences you only heard of how the baruti had turned homicidal. Rocket was your favourite with its deafening crescendo.  Those days when you would do anything without worry that the terror outfit Alshabab will disguise as camaraderie to take advantage of the opportunity to turn the event into a horror of deadly massacre and aptly coordinated attacks well-orchestrated in disguise.

It was Singles day. Working online has made you an aficionado of most calendar events. As a result, there is no recognizable day you will fail to take cognizance of due to the severity of such occasions whether celebrated or not. Diwali ‘the festival of lights’ is perhaps the most conspicuous event that Indians celebrate each year. Just like Idd among the Muslims, Diwali is characterized by a lot of feasting and unlike the former there is a bit aleing-sic (from ale).

As usual, the pusher was none other than Aggy, she prefers being called Michelle and works next to our office. In fact you had extended your stay in the office by an hour just waiting for the event which started later. She is the lovely to be with. An extrovert by nature, she brightens up like an iridescent gemstone. Her conversations are bubbly and intoxicating. Though chubby, she has a cute face that is electric a curvy physique though the adipose concentrated on her waist needs some little bit of gym to give her that “wow” look. Another folly is that if not careful with her diet, she might possibly develop the double chin on her face. Her penchant for makeup radiates well with her chocolate complexion that is flawless making her skin look great. Looks like her detox is working well.   

Together with Ritchie, a chap who plies his trade in Chowpaty and Aggy confessed she used to be her boyfriend way back in high school- describing him further would make me sound gay, Brayo, Denno and two beautiful Chiquita’s from Lower Kabete Campus, Maureen and her friend (a dark complexioned chic with the jawline, high cheek bones and willowy figure of a model and stunning face and piercing look like that of a luo diva. Her skin glowed such that it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features).

We make a maiden entry into the venue that is well decorated so much so that it looks like the average Kenyan wedding setting. Those that have seats and tables covered with some clothing and at the centre of the table there is a clay pottery with some Indian paraphernalia inside. Sadly, Indians have adopted this African Timer culture mentality of not sticking to time. Earlier on, Aggy had visited the place to check on how the event was unfolding. She is the nosy type and the go between because she has more stay and experience with Indians than most of us.

Unfortunately or the antonym of the same, we arrive early. Sit next to the DJ who is as confused as we are on what to play but resorts to Indian tunes that make you feel like you are watching those Indian movies where Raj all of a sudden spots Priya (cute little thing) and they swim in illusions as they start to dance to some tune even though they barely know each other.

The unease of sitting in a place you are jittery of whether you had been invited or not was razor sharp and cutting. The sitting position was a reflection of the simmering tautness that is covert yet never acknowledges. It is until such a time that you realize you are not as well secured in terms of mental sanity and vigor as you had thought of. It’s like you are in mainland India and you are the only stool-wool haired and black faces amidst. Arriving very early is a bit relaxing as you reduce that look on the face of having an intruder.

The incantations in celebration of the occasion took too long than you had expected. The way Indians seek divine blessings on this Third day of Diwali Festival is quite an eye opener on how variegated our ways of celebrating a festival are.  

Indian yung uns exude a flair of beauty that is intoxicating (however, the same cannot be said of their nee).  Their symmetrical facial features leave a muscle definition that is perfect, beautiful pink lips stand out and obsidian hair, so smooth and silky, leave in the autumn breeze. Competition was stiff, and even the little girl in silk frocks tried as much to stand as the centre of attraction. The only folly is that figure wise, they are as flat as a pancake in the places that excite the licentiousness in you.

Then you noticed her. In white leggings and a long green dress that covered the derriere.

It was inevitable and certain that once you looked at her, you couldn't look away. She kept you still and held your beating heart with one gaze, feeding off of you. She was a succubus, beautiful and dangerous.  She was the thief or someone close to that.  She had a confident, sexy strut that tells the world, "I'm beautiful." And she knew it. She was you crush. Her Long, wavy blonde hair, looked almost as if it was tailored from gold fabric with some shades of black. You were smitten and could have spent all the meagre income you had on her just to have a chance of spending a day with my beautiful lady straight out of utopia.

Chances are she was a on the verge of settling. Judging by the way she sat between her mothers, she clearly resembled a chip of the old block, and what looked like her aunt. She was Indian and she noticed you were looking at her in lascivious manner, you had wanted to exercise the art of charm through eye contact. Which made her look away having looked eyes and looking down and she noticed your interest. You felt like you wanted to surmount enough courage to go talk to her mother and tell her that indeed if it were not for matters beyond cultural setbacks, you would have made a wife out of her though you know that is surely lust.

She was the sweetest girl ever that day though there were many who would have rivalled her in matters beauty. Talking of sweet things, the food served was sugary or sweet in a way. There was no limitation as to the amount you needed to serve yourself. The chapatti were sugar favoured, the same to most of the foods. The sugary bolls in an equally sweet syrup were too much for you to gobble as on this occasion you take advantage of free liquor and imbibe to a point you are not inebriated silly since you need to catch a mat back home and because the next day is still work day. So Johnny Walker Black Label and Famous Grouse tots with a bottle of your favourite Tusker Malt even though it was served chilled while you love it warm does it for you.

While you were serving food, you engage in a chat with an African guy who serves everything he finds on the table. He does not know the name of the foods he wants to chow but serves them in copious amounts so that he also influences you to do the same and you end up living a majority of it on the table because liquor fights some foods intensely. Looking at the table he was coming from, you see some hot ladies joining in. Trust Kenyans to invite friends even when they are not supposed to.

However, the event never comes to a climax until sparking fireworks evade the darkness of a new moon night. The neon ostentatious orange, yellow-like flaming splash and bright sparks of colours illuminated the dark night sky and bursting firecrackers releasing scorching smoke as the cool air slapped the calming fire-material which made the aura scintillating and captivating to watch. The soundtrack of the noisy fireworks bursting harmoniously exploded in an ear-splitting yet a unique flowing sound as if they were frizzling intoxicatingly. The timing of release of the fireworks was intermittent but not predictable and at times a curvy rainbow changed shape into broad and bright spiky stars that twirled erratically.

While watching the fireworks, you notice this guy who resemble Jeff Koinange on Jameni. He is dressed in all white as if he is going for a white party. He is with guys who look like his boys. The way they oscillate around him especially a walalo like bearded dude gives you the impression he is the main guy.

Before you knew it, it was time to leave. In a slightly drunken stupor, you leave the venue and head back to the digs. Sad that matatus in Parklands do not operate in frequency past 11 at night like in you hood. They are sporadic and you have to fight to gain entry into one as the early nightshift workers are also exciting just about this time.

PS: There was this guy who came to our premises to shop. He hand dyed his beard yellow and had hanged a bunch of keys on his trousers (he looked cheap, the logo of a star was in the bunch (Mercedes)). He shopped for everything with abandon and even bought one of ours a watch having seen him with a motionless timepiece. His net spenditure was slightly over 70 k while he never looked like he would even shop for more than 5 K. He exited as if to go withdraw some cash when everything had been packed and never came back.

You also went to KFC during the week and the experience left a sour taste in the mouth. You had intended to take one of the girls you work with but they never turned up for some Streetwise treatment. The offer is not worth it in my opinion guess the reason why its monikered as street an will be found on any other ad inviting guys to go taste it. So my cinq cent (French) got wasted just like that. I wish I had spent more on some quality chicken. The chicken was not well fried inside as it looked under-fried. Not like the last time you were here and this time you felt cheated because then the chicken was splitting like the bulbs of an onion and you relished the delicacy with the zeal of a newbie..

HASTA LA VISTA BABY

[Photo Source: Google Images]

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