Ugly Clove

I am almost always awake at all the odd hours of the day, night time doesn't scare me one bit. I sometimes think I have vampire blood in my veins the way I become alive once it's dark. Another sign... me and my relationship or lack of, with garlic. I may be about to buy one of this season's best Prada shoes. Throw in a clove and I make a run for it. I so hate the damn vegetable or whatever it is. I think I could also give up my smoking addiction in the same way... if only they made just garlic cigarettes and put an ugly picture of a garlic clove. I wouldn't go anywhere near that kind of thing. Yes even a picture is enough to make me throw up. But I'm digressing. I am writing because I need to get my fix. Not a nicotine fix, but my therapy fix... sans the garlic. If I were to get married, and there's a big if in there, it would go down in my matrimonial contract... to hold and to cherish, for richer and poorer (ok maybe I wouldn't agree much with that),in sickness and in health, for better for worse, according to God's holy law, waving a last adios to garlic... to be my lawful husband. Ok that's fine because I can also play with the word lawful. A lawful husband, meaning I could get a playful husband too? But also without the garlic. And I probably could take a lawful and a playful husband cheating on me with another man or woman, or men and women, but garlic? Oh, no way. I'd start proceedings immediately and make sure I give him the messiest divorce to date. Because anybody wanting to be with me must think twice. It does not just mean being with me, bedding me, talking to me, it also means he can forget about garlic. Forever and ever. I don't care if spaghetti tastes better with garlic, you're either going to eat spaghetti or garlic... choose. And somehow, all my men (Oh God how good that sounds and I hope my mother never reads it) have chosen effortlessly. They have said their goodbyes and not their till-we-meet-agains. Because they probably like a female vampire in their life. I'm not so sure if they appreciate the fangs though. Don't ask me, ask them. Funny thing.... they always stay and stay and stay again and again and again.... stammer problem here.

If I had a magic wand....

Yes I am still a big fan of fairy tales, especially when sung by Norway's hot hot hot Alexander Rybak. But let's put Alex away for now, safely in a cupboard to be opened when I want to have fantasies about a good looking boy who makes me rock. I want a magic wand, one just like the fairy-godmothers have. And let me be precise, I want the wand but I don't want to look like a fairy-godmother. Because they look old. But I'd settle for Tinkerbell anytime, with her svelte figure and sex appeal. Anyway you don't get everything in life, so at least, just the magic wand. What would I do with it? Plenty. First of all I'd wave it into my HSBC account and make it burst. Then I'd wave it around my house and make it all spruced up. Next, I'd delve into my jewellery, shoes, clothes addictions and bring sparkling things out of nowhere. Talking about addictions, I'd wave my smoking addiction away... for good. I am too tired relying on the damn nicotine to be able to function. I've just got tired of realising I have finished my spare pack so I have to go to Paceville in the middle of the night just to be sure I won't go without. I'd also wave it all over me and give myself a Pamela Anderson body. Yes I know the boobs are fake but who cares as long as I have a waist and a butt like hers. Yes I know, out of all people, dear old Pam. But I like the in your face type of look, albeit having been schooled in a nun's convent and raised up to be a good Catholic girl. They tried, but it just didn't work, I still want that body. But out of all other things I want my magic wand for one purpose which will make all people benefit. I would wave my wand, create a throne and put Joe Demicoli on it as King of the Island. He would be higher than GonziPN, or than Joseph Muscat and Co. He would rule, the earth if possible. And it might sound silly and a laughing matter just because Demicoli is involved. The man *is* a comedian, but so much more than that. I would be able to sleep well at night because I would be sure that everyone would be treated fairly. He'd help the poor, the disabled, the ones in need. He'd help the rich too. He would be, in one word ... fair. Of course there would be a throne for Sonia too... there is a very great woman behind every great man, and that's her. I'm not sure he'd accept, preferring to live in peace than have such a brick on his shoulders. But he's a damn good man, so I'd just wave my wand at little bit naughtier and have him accept in no time at all. Sorry guys and gals, stop trying to figure out why Demicoli is so close to heart. Because he just is.

The Klandestini

I just hope that what I am about to say isn't read by Mr. Normal Lowell, or I will be tried for killing the man by a heart attack. Thing is, I somehow, in a very sordid kind of way like Mr. Lowell. I like his sense of style, and the fact that he can put on a straight face and have me in splits of laughter. Some say he might be ill, I don't think so. If I had so much as a doubt about it I wouldn't laugh, because I don't laugh at sick people. But this one is shrewd, intelligent... and a racist. And in some ways I understand because I too do not like my country becoming riddled with klandestini. It's bad enough for us, we don't need more. But then what do you do? Turn them away? Open fire on them? Surely not. So that's where Mr. Lowell and I differ. He wants to turn them away he says, I wouldn't have the heart to turn away a tiny fish. And yes he's right, in a matter of years Maltese people could start becoming black seeing that the best Maltese men are gay, and women *do* have needs somehow. So there we go. And I'm not very pure, I like my white skin to stay white, my offsprings (imaginary) to be white, and the offsprings of my offsprings to be also white. Why, perhaps it's because I'm attracted to white. Am I a racist? Could be, just a little bit, but I don't think that people should be judged by the colour of their skin, neither do I think they should have lesser rights, so that just about lets me off the racist hook. There is one thing making me miserable though. Every time I drive through Marsa, which is quite often seeing I live in the Cottonera area, I can see the Marsa open centre. And it's no pretty sight. Why do people say they are given money, a cell phone and everything they wish for? Because if that were true, why does this open centre look an eyesore to me? You can see people sitting around in the blazing sun because they have nothing to do, men by the roadside praying someone will pick them up and maybe give them a job for a day, and women trying to hand wash clothes in a spit of water. My guess is they have no airconditioning, no washing machines, and no money. Yet to hear people talk you'd think they were living like kings and queens. I drive past at 10 am, they're there waiting in the sun, I drive past at 4 pm, and they're still waiting praying that someone will pick them up. And what has become fashionable, at least it seems so, is to drive past, pick a couple of them up when you want moving some very extremely heavy furniture, then give them a couple of Euro. That's all. What makes me tick though, is driving by at night when it's dark. They are waiting then too, but for an entirely different reason. And of course I do not heed the instructions of do not drive by in the middle of the night, because I'm a curious bugger. So there's a car, which seems to be shaking as if there were an earthquake in progress, and a line of men waiting, presumably their turn to get into the shaking car. Is this free entertainment, and if it isn't, where do they get the money from? And who on earth is offering the entertainment be it free or not? Is she or he in their right mind? Or do we have Maltese people among us who are even poorer then the klandestini who has to 'work' like this to put food on the table for their kids? It makes me tick, and shudder, and no I'm not offering entertainment in my car, shaking or not. I can be kind, but I have my limits.