MYTH NO.4 THAT WE HAVE SOME MYSTERIOUS DEFORMITY OR DISEASE TUCKED AWAY IN OUR JEANS OR BRAS.

I have been in countless situations where a dude gives me a slow sweeping stare down my body, as if he expects to find that on my chest, I have three boobs.

Folks refuse to believe that the reason we are single is because we are simply dogged down with bad luck. They imagine that something queer is responsible for it all. It is easier for them to conclude we have Ebola or at least bad breath because it makes more sense that way.
If you are a single brother chicks will throw you a mistrustful stare, as if you have a big queer secret probably something like;

Instead of the ordinary number, you were actually born with only one ball.

Just leave us alone people, coz contrary to what you think, most of us do have clean armpits and are healthier than oxen, life is just giving us a bumpy ride when it comes to these things. Stop running stories on us mbu we have Genital Herpes or Chlamydia. It is not funny.

MYTH NO.5
THAT SINGLE PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DIE A SLOW PAINFUL DEATH FROM A DREADFUL DISEASE RESULTING FROM LACK OF SEX.
You don’t have to be a scientist to know that single fellas are excluded from the general copulating population. We be the fellas who have their noses pressed onto the window panes on the outside looking in.
We actually never complain to a soul about the fact that we are excluded by the general populace from these activities, and honestly most of us are cool with the status quo, but nobody ever believes us; all thanks and praise to the almighty Sigmund Freud
with his cronies who claim sex is as basic a need as food.
I hereby raise my long bony fingers and declare it all nothing, but a giant mug of insipid Bongo because, if there was so much as a grain of truth in that psychobabble, I personally would be emaciated; nothing but tibiae and femurs. I am the breathing proof that challenges all that fallacious literature otherwise
my selfies would look like these.

Nobody ever died from celibacy, for screaming out loud. At least the world is yet to wake up to a tragic headline that goes like “Senegalese man’s brain tumour resulting from lack of sex, ends his life.”
Or woman’s skin breaks out in large boils from the same.

We single folks, don’t while our hours away like you all like to imagine, in a miserable one man show donating a series of hand jobs to ourselves. We actually live happy lives filled with other activities, the last thing on our minds is that stuff.

When you are single, you redirect all those energies that could have burnt on canoodling with your significant other to productive activities. Personally I can assure you that you would be lucky if you got wrecked on an island with me.There isn’t a class under the sun that I haven’t attended.

Taekwondo, classes in Korean, culinary lessons, carpentry, piano, chakamchaka… whatever you please ma’am.
Then there is this infamous school of thought that has kept in circulation the notion that;
Single people especially females who pursue celibacy for a long time, are going to require surgery to reopen the canals that lie south of their belly buttons,

because they will have clogged up from lack of activity hence increasing the possibility of the appendages of their male counterparts snapping in two, like Baggias, if they attempted the task of unclogging.

Niggers please; our lady parts are waaaymore advanced than that. They actually have their own minds and opinions of stuff, they open when they wanna, and if they remained closed, just go home.
They are like a little kingdoms, those things, don’t even get me started because I could sing the praises of the Hoohah forever, but I will save that campaign for a rainy day.

It’s all very annoying when a fella majestically comes forth to swear upon a coffin that it is actually a scientific fact. So help me God but the next time someone says this to me, I will just crack his cranium open with a large biology textbook.

Away from all that, I must admit that at the rate at which human beings are copulating, one can’t help but wonder and worry whether by the time one decides to have sex there will be any left.
If there is anything I learnt from those painfully boring economics lessons in high school, it is that. over consumption of natural resources leads to scarcity and eventual exhaustion.

So am thinking in the near future, on top of being slowly cooked in our houses, because of global warming, we are going to run out of the supply of sex. Malls and shops will be closed and there will be none even on the black market. Then the banks will start giving high interest loans and mortgages for it if you want it. Only the filthy rich will be able to afford it but the poor won’t have any.

Then probably world health organization would send the third world countries, funds to solve this problem and in the manner typical of this government;

the minister of health will just fly first class to a white sanded beach in Brazil and drink Mojitos with Latina chicks.

I shudder at it all, but for me I will always rejoice in the fact that I was not born immortal like a werewolf and therefore doomed to live this tiresome life forever.
Isn’t it comforting to know that at the end of this dull life we actually get to die?and you know take a looooong freaking nap, coz God knows a girlie named Annie needs one.

In heaven where I am sure I am headed, basing on the biblical fact that the poor shall inherit the kingdom of heaven, we won’t have to deal with this mess.
We will just be singing praises to Jehovah, and I will form a girl band; with Alicia keys on the drums, Mariah Carey on the sax and me on the keys. I know the world thinks that my playing is shoddy but to the ears of my Jesus, I am Beethoven.

And we will sing soul music. And will live happily forever after.

Well, I have made very many enemies with people’s boyfriends and girlfriends over the past few weeks that everywhere I go in the streets of Kampala, people keep chucking mangadas and muddy shoes at me.
I implore you to stop and remember that I am just Annie, a girl who is as plain as a boiled egg, what I write shouldn’t phase you, simply keep ignoring me the way you would a fruit fly.
However you will be happy to know that, due to the general outcry from the public, and perpetual threats from the government to take me to the barracks in Kyankwanzi.

I have finally agreed to make this my last post. I thank all y’ all who have suffered patiently through this shit storm.You are very brave. And you deserve a life time supply of butter cookies.

Till we meet again I remain,
Yours truly,
Her Royal Badness;
Last queen of Masajja,
Anna the XII.