Dynamo, Bhor, and Love Affairs with Ancient Hairy Homonids

Mother has always been a perfectionist in all aspects of life.
One lovely afternoon, we look at ourselves in the elevator mirror on the return trip upstairs.
Oh, we all do it.
We compare our features, and establish that I have her nose. I agreed – I look very much like her.
I point out that her nose, unlike mine, is in proportion to her face.
“Well, you can always get a nose job.”
How is this my responsibility?
NEXT TIME YOU MAKE A KID, WOMAN. DO IT RIGHT.
Or pick a partner with a smaller nose. Or something.
But I don’t know. Menopause.
I once heard children are perfect in their mother’s eyes.
Ahem.
Who defines perfect anyway?
It’s in our nature to observe.
This is my excuse when I’m caught checking out or sometimes gushing about other people.
How is it okay to gush about Brad Pitt and that manbeard, but not that heavily tattooed, bald guy sitting across the street?
Note to all women: Only gush about men you stand absolutely no chance with. The minute he thinks you and bald guy could have a thing going on?
Man.
God forbid, Brad Pitt comes into town and gets a whiff of my irresistible post-pubescent pheromones.
I can’t help looking at other people. Whether we like to admit it or not, we’re animals. We evolved like every other organism.
If you believe in that.
Alternatively, with a soft pop, you emerged into existence.
*POP*
“ADAM!”
This is my brother’s name.
I don’t mean to poke fun at Christianity. Oh, man.
I’M SORRY, GRANNY.
Anyway, tangent aside, we’re a species, to which there are variations.
I often pause to admire a pretty flower or brightly-coloured insect. They’re beautiful and fascinating.
So too are people.
Thus, I admire.
Most times in a relationship, this is not okay.
Why?
So I can stare creepily at a grasshopper but the minute my pupils dilate at another human being I’ve thrown my poop at a working, conveniently-situated ceiling fan?
Fair enough, one can’t mate with an insect, so one can’t really be intimidated by such admiration.
Well, you could. Somehow.
Maybe ask the Japanese.
This means that the acceptability of this practice is dependent on a partner’s insecurity.
What’s my point?
I don’t have one.
LET ME LOOK AT THEM. LET THEM LOOK AT ME.
Unless they’re blind.
Feeling me up is only okay on Sundays between 2-3am.
I like my personal space.
You know those parking assist devices? Their beeping gets rapider as the vehicle nears an object.
I would like this app to be developed for cellphones.
I am a vehicle, man.
BEEP………BEEP……….BEEP………BEEP
BEEP…….BEEP……..BEEP…….BEEP
BEEP….BEEP….BEEP….BEEP
BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!
Object, you are too close. You are breathing in my designated supply of oxygen.
Sometimes, men don’t appreciate the concept of personal space.
I think the definition should find its way onto a T-shirt. Right where one’s boobs should be.
Do you know that during embryonic development, all foetuses start as female?
Creationists, look away now.
MAN, YOU WERE MADE FIRST, BUT YOU WERE MADE FEMALE.
Ha.
Then again, this means that men, having evolved from femaleness, are more evolved.
Hmm.
But, this also means that all men have a little ‘woman’ in them.
Ha. Again.
Human development is an interesting, easily manipulated topic, as you can see from the above-mentioned ridiculousness.
Let me put on my Ancient Aliens Guy wig for a minute.
Let’s think about gods. There are many, many gods who can do many, many things.
What if gods aren’t supernatural? What if they’re just…natural?
Darwin is renowned for the concept of the survival of the fittest.
I’ve come to realise he didn’t actually mean bodybuilders and most Kenyans, but actually those species or variations of species most adapted to survive.
Well, maybe most Kenyans. Zombie Apocalypse, y’know?
So, what if these gods were just another species? Our ‘most-advanced’ predecessors who just killed each other off or mated, in dire straits, with the ancestors of humans in the evolutionary line, and have just diminished into humanity?
BOOM.
That was your mind.
Blown.
I mean, look at Dynamo. I mean. Just. Dynamo. What is he, man?
I think he’s a very attractive, ailed, talented gentleman, if you must know. And maybe the descendant of Thor and some unfortunate Homo erectus.
And that Asian kid who can see in the dark? And those telekenetics? And psychics?
With shaky hands, Thor beckoned his best friend, Bhor.
“Our race dies, good man. I must mate with this hairy, humanoid woman yonder the lake. Generations from this moment, the blood of our forefathers will run strongly still between all corners of Earth.”
Off he went to bring the thunder.
2014
Honey Boo Boo and the Biebs.
Devolution.
Y’know, I don’t think I’d get down with a chimpanzee. It’s all right. You go ahead. Take one for the team.
The only thing that evolves now is technology. Like esteemed iPhones with their marginally improving specs being released with a +1 title. Samsung has waterproof, flexi-screens with Youm technology.
Screw that, let me get this extremely expensive iPhone with a colour screen.
ERMAGERD COLOUR SCREENS
I am grossly exaggerating, but I am okay with that.
Go Android.
I swapped my iPad 4 for Samsung Galaxy Tab 2.
No Ragrets
Unlike Raja, who in response to Sherwyn asking what the D stood for, exclaimed:
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS!”
I have great friends. Like Sha, who has trust issues because of Durban’s unpredictable weather.
Well, I’d never been so amused during a test in my life.
Granted, I’m usually cursing the heavens and just about anything within a 100m radius.
I’m a terrible student. I’ve actually gotten 0 for an exam.
I’d never been so blank. I thought my name on a page would get me at least 1.
NOT EVEN THAT.
I’ve taken to writing the date now just in case.

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