When I joined campus a couple of years back, I was of the idea that I had arrived at this magical place where hot girls would constantly throw themselves at me. I envisioned being surrounded by the hottest of them all, in all shapes, colours and sizes. Like those in Rick Ross’s music videos. Until half a semester later when reality started sinking in. My pot was deficient of one vital ingredient. Affluence. Apparently, my averagely pretty smile and roasted coffee complexion were not enough to entertain these hot girls. Now, these hot girls are just ordinary girls but with some cheap make-up, a wig that has seen better days, fake nails and a high-pitched twang. They are the Pro Max version of your ordinary girl. Similar features, just well packaged. Like Panadol Extra. Megan Thee Stallion wannabes. They call themselves bad bitches. Because of all these ‘premium’ features, these wannabes cannot bring themselves to spend a weekend in a bedbug-infested hostel room watching ‘Three Idiots’ on a fourteen-inch overheating laptop. What is Imax for? Their not-so-flat tummies cannot digest ugali mayai sukuma served on a faded melamine plate. Haven’t you heard of Pizza? They can not drink Chrome Gin […]
