W-I-R-D-I-E-N!

I like living things, especially when they come in the form of male human beings. But like several other species, I like dogs, and cats and birds and I'd so love to own a young tiger cub and maybe a panda. I guess the tiger and panda will be firmly stuck in my dreams though, the closest I could get to them would be in a zoo and I hate zoos. Or I could go trekking in a wild-life safari but that is hardly possible, I like my creature comforts way too much, and God help whatever living species it is if they contribute to chipping a nail of mine. So I suppose it'll be Discovery Channel and Animal Planet. What I do hate when living are wirdien. They are so ugly, but then I am not one to judge a book by it's cover, now matter how badly beaten about it is. But oh God these wirdien are getting the better of my sane judgement. And I hate being so creeped out by them because it's considered a girly thing. And I usually like girly things especially when they come with the five C's. I do not have a problem with other insects, I think spiders are cool and can even handle them, yes even the big hairy ones. I think ladybirds are pretty and ever since I was a child I would go to great lengths to look for a straying ladybird's family so that it could be back with her mother. I also do not mind ants, and although an ant up my arm is not my idea of Saturday evening fun, I will not kick up a fuss. Beatles, they're ok too, as are lizards and ghekos. If only I were fast enough to be able to pick one up. But mention the word wirdien and I go mad, totally mad, my sense of reason suddenly being taken away. And I'm trying to find the English word for them, but I cannot. They're not roaches, roaches are small, I am able to stamp on them or spray their life goodbye with a good can of insect killer. Not wirdien. I will act like the maddest person on the planet. They are ugly, they run fast, and they flyyyy! Thankfully I have never seen one in the house, three cheers for my cats, I think wirdien sense cats and stay away. But I cannot control the ones flying and flapping their dreaded wings outside. I remember one evening deciding to kill two poor birds with one stone and go healthy, opt for a walk by the Sliema front while parading my then sexy self. It lasted for less than five minutes. This flipping wirdiena suddenly flew out of nowhere and deposited my self on my then smaller cleavage. I just went wild, the wirdiena had just flown on my best asset, and my inhibitions had flown straight out of the window. I just screamed, jumped up and down, ran right across the road with bus honking at me... and stripped to my bra. And the damn thing still didn't leave, until one very good man lurched at the little devil and my cleavage in the process, caught it and killed it. I didn't care that a perfect stranger had just placed his hands on my perfect set of headlamps, I would have given him anything and everything. In my eyes, he'd just saved my life. And I was shaking, not even bothering about the stares that my pretty La Senza bra was getting. I just crumbled and smoked one whole cigarette in my underwear at the Sliema front. So unladylike, my composure being knocked down by this 2 inch beast. But it gets worse. Another wirdiena story. There I was walking up Valletta's Republic Street when I got the feeling my ankle chain was acting weird. So I stopped to attend to the problem, lifted the hem of my jeans and lo and behold there was a wirdiena in all her glory twitching her antlers (yes they looked that big) in all its glory. And... I stripped again, this time, the bottom part. I was there gracing Republic Street in just my knickers, and since it was dark, not many people were around to save me. I just shook my naked leg so hard I wonder how I didn't get a dislocated hip. Oh and I also screamed. Screaming is always part of seeing-a-wirdiena-workout. Somehow, I'd hurt this wirdiena's ears by the decibels of sound, and it flew away. I just slumped by the wall, jeans at my ankles looked up and saw this Madonna statue, said a little prayer and realised I'd better not let the Madonna see me in my underwear. So if you see a woman screaming, prancing around and stripping away... chances are it'll be me. Just look the other way and say a prayer for me, or if you've got the guts, be a Samaritan and help this poor girl. I'll make sure you won't be sorry, one way or another...