The Shoes

Finances again. I've just realised I'm good in finances. Because I am just great to the economy, my greatest contribution being... shoes. How I love shoes. I've loved them ever since I was a little child. I was never the perfect child, I would throw tantrums because I wanted to wear my red not my pink shoes thank you very much. Mums might think that pink is for girls, and perhaps it is for many girls, but red it is for me. Always has been. The sight of something red sends me into an almost-orgasm. Then if it is a red shoe... oh it's not staying in the shop window for any longer. Yes I do have a fetish, I actually have a shoe room. I also have plenty of shoes bought but never worn because there is not enough time. But I still have to have them. There's no way anybody else is handling them with their grubby fingers. Shoes talk. At least they talk to me a lot. Every time I enter a shoe shop I start hearing things like, 'Pick me', 'Take me'. Really. The last time I counted them it was more then 500 pairs. Honestly, this is no bragging, just saying things as they are. I've since lost count. I wear a size 41/8 and this hasn't stopped me from my shoe addiction. One time in Italy I had a hard time. I was trying to shoe shop and my size seemed to be an alien size. Then one shopkeeper said it all.... we not do 41 because they be ugly. Pardon? Ma per piacere, I am loaded with size 41's and they're not ugly. I think I actually have pretty feet. I hate to see some feet now it's summer, they're all squiggly and diddly and need a good manicure, a good wash, and they need to be broken and put into plaster to be presentable. Not mine. I have awesome feet. Top model material feet, pretty, straight, all polished up. You won't find many feet like mine. And I acknowledge that I sound like a foot fetishist. But I'm not. I hate the idea of handling someone else's feet jaqq. Foot fetishists are strange people, they want to lick toes and stuff. That is disgusting. Then there's the boot fetish, licking boots? Oh no way in hell. I might be a shoe addict but not a shoe fetishist. And if anybody is licking my feet, then it will be my feet and I won't be doing the licking. It's that simple, people can kiss my feet.

Ministru tal-Finanzi

I must be the worst financial advisor there has been to date. What makes me even more certain about it all is the fact that brother darling is in fact a legal financial advisor with a Masters. So it's definitely it. I really am bad when it comes to finances. It doesn't help that the lady of the house is also il-Ministru tal-Finanzi of the house. It seems to suit the Mister just fine. It suits me just fine for a couple of days when the pay check is in. Then I feel just like the richest thing on the planet and do not give a hoot at what's coming in, what going out. That is the problem. For a grand couple of days the world suddenly seems to be at my feet, or at my Euro more likely. It's a good good feeling. The feeling of suddenly turning into Imelda Marcos and buying shoes by the dozen. What it is about shoes I'll write in another entry. That is too special to waste on a financial entry. So every month I swear that next month I'm going to be good and at least know where the money is going. Every month this fails to happen. I have no idea how certain women actually bring up a whole family on a miserly wage. I don't even know how to bring myself up on not a miserly wage. Perhaps my expectations keep getting higher. I want Chanel and Dior now. If I could I would buy designer wear for my cats too, but they don't like being dressed up. They're nudists and like going about the house very naked. My dogs are just like me, they need oversize. Trouble is, while I seem to fit into a lot of oversize things, they just don't do that much oversize clothing for dogs. A lot is big about me, take my dogs. No, don't you dare take my dogs, they would never go anyway. And the average person would shit their pants just by taking a look at them. So they too go about naked. X'pastazati in this house. No wonder my mother thinks I need a good blessing. But I have tried, when the pastor's walking in the sun (mad pastor), and visiting houses just to make some sotto-specchio wet with his blessed water. The problem is the pastor does not stop at my house. Wonder why. Probably because it is a house tal-pastazati seeing there is no marriage certificate, or perhaps the pastor doesn't like nudist pets romping around the place. And yet again I have digressed from my financial or lack of talents. And perhaps that is what I keep doing every month... digressing.