Ever woken up one morning feeling like cold porridge? Exactly how I feel right now... Like cold porridge!

The Artist crew may have brought home more Gongs than anybody else but Angelina Jolie's skinny leg display was the truest winner of the most recently taken place 84th Academy Award ceremony! Let's now move on from it all. Angelina, will like a good girl go on a kebab diet, and eventually everyone will smile! ***** ***** ***** Else where on our most loved tv screen, Desperate Housewives has hit the newest depth of sweetness. It's all sugar on the famous, mysterious Wisteria Lane, it's insane! You get to painfully crave for more after each episode. I believe our most revelled, most addictive series aims to make it's upcoming exit with an ear-splitting, noisy bang. ***** ***** ***** I think I have the greediest children on earth! When I give them food, they first look in each other's plate to compare the quantity. Then a huge fight ensues if ever one feels the other has a little bit more... These boys have never once said no to anything that has to do with food, I tell you. They live to eat... and flatulate. This morning, the youngest ate till he puked... Hannah Nkunga at 2:27 AM

Gong Night 2012

Oscars are no fun, man. Especially if you have to wait till you clock 82 years to grab your own gong. Just ask Christopher Plummer... Did The Artist deserve all the nominations and gongs it received? Not according to me. Did George Clooney deserve that giant snub he got? Not at all. What about Octavia Spencer, did she earn her gong? HELL YES!

Fernando Torres brought rotten Luck to Stamford Bridge

Nothing has gone right at the 'Blue Bridge' ever since Torres' exuberant cross over from Anifield. Chelsea FC ungrudgingly splashed 50 million bucks for the former Liverpool FC striker hoping his brilliant football skills would assist in bringing to the bridge the championship. A waste of millions it was! Torres has brought nothing but bad luck to stamford bridge. Even the blue jersey looks alien on him. I'm so livid! Especially after tonight's defeat against Napoli. Torres should pack and go back where he came from!

Cure for Limerence?

Anyone??

Husband and wife are the most mismatched pair of pairs. Some people compare them to a pair of scissors, I choose to disagree. A pair of scissors at least agrees to disagree almost all the time. Unlike husband and wife who prefer to do the opposite. This morning as I was getting ready for work, my husband was as usual cocooned in the comfort of the blanket curiously watching me. He always watches me... I don't think he enjoys it as much as he says he does. What's so enjoyable about a naked woman getting dressed? It's sick! Here is the dialogue that took place: TICH (Hubby): "Hannah Nkunga..." ME: (No answer.) TICH: "Hannah Nkunga..." ME: "What?" TICH: "Nothing..." ME: "Mxiii" TICH: "Hey, 'Nkunga' is an animal, right?" ME: "What do you mean?" TICH: "It should be, cuz you behave like an animal." (breaks into a loud laugh) ME: "Fuck off, Tich!" (LOL) THE 2012 Grammys The moment I listened to Adele's 21, I instinctively knew a lot of artists would be very upset come the Grammys. And Lord was I right! The chick is genius in every sense of the term. Six Grammys under her belt and a lot more to be scooped. Given a chance to enter all the Grammy award categories, Adele could have won each and every one of them! I'm sure Karl Lagerfeld is choking on his "fat" [sic] remarks wherever he is. What a cow! Adele is a musical artist not a fashion model! Hannah Nkunga at 11:50 PM

Zambia or Ivory Coast - ACN

Tonight is Africa Cup of Nations finals. Zambia (Chipolopolo) is going to take on Ivory Coast. Motherland is oozing loads and loads of excitement. It almost feels like world cup again. Only better! I don't share the excitement however. I'm kinda angry. Angry for being Malawian. A nation mostly famous for one thing: FAILURE! Ok. That's a bit harsh. But true nevertheless! Malawi is a failed nation period! When other African countries are participating in international sport competitions like world cup, Malawi spectates. I'm sick of it. Well, don't mind me. I'm just a bitter bitch turning green with envy, jealous of hubby's country playing in the final of ACN. He's over the sun, hubby. Genuinely burning with pride. I put my buck on Ivory Coast. Mainly to irk all Zambians, particularly my husband. And of course I adore Drogba. I'd follow him to the end of earth. Hannah Nkunga at 10:59 AM

Whitney Houston is ALIVE...

When it comes to music, I'm very eclectic. I love all sorts of music! But I can also be obstinately selective of which artists and tracks I make a soul connection with. One thing I've learnt over the years is that you can't fake this soul connection. It's like love... Or a mind-blowing orgasm. You either experience it, or you don't! And it happens involuntarily. Growing up with musical parents, a mother who went about her household chores humming sweet melodies, and a father who taught himself how to play piano and seemed to always have a tune in his head, there was just no way out for me! I wouldn't have been able to escape the dominant gene (which was in this case, MUSIC) even if I'd done an intensified fast for a miracle. I have no vivid recollection of when exactly music became a vital part of me, all I know is I couldn't live without a song buzzing in my head and the lyrics spewing out of my mouth. I spent most of my childhood singing in various school and church choirs. At home, we had our own family choir and I was the lead singer. It was so much fun! I was about five years old when I first heard Whitney Houston singing "Saving all my love" on radio. The sweetness of the notes was like a heroin shot right to my soul. From that moment on I became Whitney's willing captive. I just can't believe she is gone. Her recently unexpected passing doesn't make sense at all. Mega popstars like Whitney should be immune to death. But I guess life doesn't make sense. That's why they die. Yes, I repeat; life doesn't make sense... Actually, nothing makes sense on this planet. Except maybe for tennis, and Angry Birds, and Desperate Housewives, and books, and writing, and music, and word games, and sex, and more angry birds... This talk of things not making sense reminds me of Judge Judy's most favorite line; "if it doesn't make sense, it's usually not true." I'd like to apply this line to all things that hurt in this world. In that case I can believe in make believe and not hurt when I'm hurt. Yes, as long as it hurts, it doesn't make sense: And if it doesn't make sense, it's not true. It's a bad dream, or a rotten imagination... In my mind right now, I believe Whitney Houston is alive somewhere. Ecstatically snorting the white powder she loved so much and full of life. I believe Michael Jackson is with a bunch of boys in bed in Neverland. And I believe Rudo Mawere wasn't brutally strangled and bundled in a travel bag. I also believe Chelsea FC didn't get savagely 'raped' by Everton yesterday. All is rosy in my mind. All well and making sense! So excuse me for not adding a 'RIP Whitney' to this post. For I blatantly refuse to believe she's dead!

A Sickening Odour of Tragedy

What a week it has been! Rotten in every sense of the word. Sickening!! First, a body of a young Malawian woman stuffed in a suitcase is discovered in Dublin. Secondly, I learn that a man I once met is a prime suspect in the murder investigation. Then follow the endless calls from the media looking for whatever information. And finally the unnerving news of the suspect's possible suicide. Tell me how I'm supposed to ever function again... I've been through some shocking moments in my life, but this, I'm experiencing now, is the great granny of all SHOCKS! It just has to be!! The enigmatic question I can't seem to crack is: What exactly would push one into committing murder in cold blood? Animosity? Anxiety? Monstrosity? Well, I don't know. Perhaps what the bible says about man being the image of holiness and purity is just a ludicrous myth. Perhaps we are just heartless monsters on two feet waiting to be pushed to an edge to have an excuse to hurt others. That would colorfully explain our wicked ways. Why we kill, rape or steal. It's a sad world occupied by sad creatures! "Monsters are never born, but created." Mary Alice of Desperate Housewives once cleverly pointed out. Yes, monsters are created by other monsters. It makes perfect sense! Human beings are never born with a natural ability to harm other human beings. But atrocious and painful experiences met along the course of life may brutally slaughter our souls and transform us into unfeeling monsters who kill, rape and steal. I can't seem to shake Jason Dube, the man who may have murdered Rudo Mawere and stuffed her in a suitcase, out of my head. I'm totally screwed! I keep seeing his face. Today I even went and sat on a chair he sat on the one time he visited our place. Crazy, I know, but some things are better left unexplained. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what could have been going through his mind then. What would have made him so anxious to an extent of taking a life? Especially that of someone he may have closely known? I keep going back to the day I met him. I could sense he was troubled... in spite of his cool disposition. I could smell a lot of restlessness about him. I just wish I could foresee the tragedy that was to follow. Was money really worth two precious lives?