CIMDHOG

In a cruel, cold and empty world everyone needs a safe haven, as for Stacy Adams her safe haven was Louisville. It has always been a place where she felt alive, free and fulfilled. While others swoon over havens with hilltops, green meadows and old fashioned cottages, Stacy had a whole different idea of safe haven. Hers was full of life, glamour, fame and unspeakable power. She was the centre of attraction in Louisville, she was the new girl in town and the only girl that matters. Every girl wants to be her friend, every boy wants to be her boyfriend, even adults wants to be associated with her. In Louisville, Stacy was the centre of entertainment. Meanwhile in the outside world Stacy could easily be described as an average girl, with no fibre of popularity, has very little to say and with few friends. After a hard day at work, she settles down on her comfy bed as she lies down as she boards her private jet to Louisville.

how i let it get to this point is all beyond me. How did i miss those small details...the hidden contacts, the blank eyes, the unbearable silence, the lies...disregarding like nothing of importance, thinking perfect is not necessary. How come i let myself be blindfolded by the fantasy which was not, i went out as a Cinderella to dance with my prince but before the clock of midnight, the magic faded and am left in the centre of the ballroom with no prince and in rags with my head bowed in shame and my rags soaking up my tears. This is not how the story was supposed to end, it is not part of the plan. the supposed prince charming would be a source of pain and regret, my happily ever after has rapidly faded to become a sadly ever after. ...and all i can do is shake my head in disappointment asking myself, "how did you let things go this far?"

A deep sigh escapes his lips as he kicks off his shoes and planted his bare feet on the familiar soft rug digging his toes deeply into the rug as if to absorb the softness and smoothness of the rug, he slumps down on one of his comfy chair loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, he mentally reviews all the activities of the day which involved him rushing out the door, a minor motor clash with another car which led to a head banging argument with no end result except for the fact that he was going to be late to work, at work, he settled down to work on his normal monotonous duty but this time around it was not his normal duty that came around, it was not monotonous but it was not exciting either, in simple terms...he was eagerly waiting for closing time. At the stroke of 5'0 clock, he jumped from his seat packing his bag and headed straight to his car yearning for home, the drive home was full of further arguments with other drivers, clever maneuvers which turns out not to

okay i would just blurt it out... i am scared of frying fish...not frying in total, just fish. in fact i find frying every other thing fascinating...but i dread frying fish. i don't know how other women do it, making it so easy and perfect. i envy them so much, and in situations where i find myself cornered to frying fish (after a lot of physical, mental and spiritual preparation) it usually ends....not as expected. Before time i usually lower my outcome standards to avoid me being embarrassed with myself but still i always end up with an outcome lower than my low standard, i end up with a fried fish with missing body parts such as the eyeball and skin, sometimes i end up with a sushi-fried fish. The worst part is that i actually love fried fish...*sobs loudly*

Have you ever gotten so tired that every muscle in your body screech in pain with every movement, so tired that every inch of your body aches, so tired that you can't eat and worse so tired that you can't sleep. Well buddy, don't feel alone, because i am going through the same thing right now, i am so tired that i can't even thing straight to come up with a decent article. My head is pounding, my eyes are heavy, my limbs feel heavy and my joints ache. The mystery of it all is that i can't pinpoint a particular cause of this condition, so i am going to be sticking with the most plausible cause (my brain is too tired to think right now) which is...i went outside. Right now all i need is a flat, smooth and soft surface to lay my tired body on.

Stating the fact that you complete me would be a gross understatement, i think the more appropriate fact is that despite our ups and down, despite our tears (well, mostly mine) arguement and laughter and despite situations and circumstances that may arise you are the only human that holds the key to my heart. whenever you are far from me i yearn you more than ever, for your sweet voice, your laughter and your touch. I wait eagerly for the sound of your footsteps at the door announcing your arrival,at which my heart leaps with joy and a soothing feeling takes over as if to say," Keep Calm, Mother is Back"...mummy o yo yo...i smile to myself as i recall a young me running frantically towards a wonderfully made middle aged woman with arms wide open and a smile as wide as it can be, as i run towards her with the chorus still on my lips..."mummy...o yo yo!", "mummy...o yo yo!". I leap upwards as she scoops me up in her arms hugging me with every iota of love

There are a handful of interesting individuals in my life, some crack me up each and every time while others leave me in a state of awe and disbelief. of all the acquitances i have made the far most interesting is that i have developed with a some what tenant i have in my room. It was there the moment i moved into the room and has refused to move base since then...its a wall gecko. Well before you go all..."ewwww, that's disgusting"... try to understand my point of view.  i never would have imagined myself putting together an article for a wall gecko roommate. As i have informed you earlier, it was there the moment i moved into the room, i barely slept that night, i was on edge, anxious and desperately waiting for sunrise so as to make a quick dash to the store and get some pesticides. Despite the edginess, anxiety and desperation, one thing led to another which further led to other things that resulted to me not buying the proposed pesticide. Another night, anot

The other day as i was going through my daily non-routine activities, an interesting idea popped up in my head, then i said to myself, "hmmm, this would make a good article for my blog and i made a clear mental note to whip up something about it. Hours passed by and when i was fully settled, i pulled out my tablet and all i could was to stare at the blank space, i tried but it seemed no matter how hard i tried my brain keeps coming up with a "ERROR 404: memory not found" sign. I sat there blinking very hard trying to juggle memories in my brain, searched but no results, i even went through my trash and spam memories, i searched and searched still nothing. I was not going to give up without a fight, so i began pacing (cause i have seen a lot of people do that and come up with a big plan or remember something important...which i needed to do) back and forth processing every thought that had come into my head through out the day, ten minutes went by pacing, no resul

"Aha!, we meet again" i exclaim as i stare at the object that used to be my mortal enemy while growing up...a hair brush. As harmless and simple as it might seem, this object had brought a lot of agony, tears and psychological trauma. As much as i would want to blame my mother, the medium of offense, i have finally come to peace with the fact that the main culprit was the offender, which is the hair brush. I would like to expantiate on the amount of suffering i suffered because of hair brush being a girl with kinky stubborn hair every salon day is trauma day. The scratching, the hair pulling, the cries for help and aftermath headache had been a childhood signature for every visit to the salon. I shudder as images of past pains flash before my eyes, "how can so much pain and trauma be brought about by something so simple?" I ask myself as i stare at the offender lying on the table like a simple harmless hair brush.

After several rounds of tossing and turning on his bed, he pushes himself up in the sitting position staring blankly into the pitch darkness of the room. He fumbled with the sheets as he rises from the bed, a place that was meant for comfort and relaxation had now turn into a place of torture,was it not last night that he slept on the same bed like a log of wood,but now the bed has refused to act on his sole purpose. He wadded through the darkness, tapping furniture as he tries to get a source of light when the inevitable happened, "bam!!!" His little toe has a collision with the cupboard..."ugh!" He exclaimed as he let out a word or two words of distress. Hopping the rest of the way he was able to make it to the light source without any other collision. "Okay, so what am i to do?" He questioned himself after making two trips to the fridge , first one to get a glass of cold water, the second was for an apple in the fridge. He stands at the centre of

For the umpteenth time, i roll my eyes as i am forced to listen to the same old story. I smile and nod as i did the first time i heard it, but as i smiled a bitter bile was released into my mouth. Oh! the disgust. And finally i have determined to put an end to this suffering that i happen to find myself. From this day on, no more would i suffer the disgust of old stale stories and gist, in any circumstance that anyone around me try to recycle old stale stories, i would put my foot down look the fellow in the eye and yell with all the strength that i can gather,"it is not a necessity to speak, if you do not have anything new and exciting to contribute, PLEASE BE QUIET, and free us/me from downing into my system nauseous bile!" There is no pros without cons, am sure my new tactic would come across some obstacles and challenges coupled with some dissatisfied friends and relatives, but at this point, i am unapologetic because...I AM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN TO OLD STALE STORIES.