Aaaajjjjuuuutttt!

What a word. What an endearing word too. No, I don't need help. Well I need plenty of help around the house but calling 'Ajjut' doesn't help. But I sure love saying the word. It's funny how it's got into my dictionary with a va va voom, in the same way as the person who taught me it got straight into my heart with a 'gas mal-pjanca' type of speed. Because I don't just have one dictionary. It depends. I have a dictionary according to the person I talk to. Although it usually takes a long time to make up a dictionary, this one has surprised even me. This dictionary I've compiled in five seconds flat. And it feels so good too. So what makes me say Ajjut? Well firstly you have to say the word dragging all its syllables. Otherwise it doesn't make sense. Secondly, I think you've got to be on heat, as in designer bling bling heat. Still heat, but we're a classy couple you see. Then you've got to laugh which is easy, you can't help but laugh. If I were a dog, no make that a bitch, I'd be rolling around in ecstasy. After that comes the really juicy part. A heated (as in biological, ovulation-type of heat) flurry of words which I'd love to write down here but can't because blogspot would kick me out. Then the heated individual will start describing the screams, also of ecstasy of course. The come two words... ten times. After that, another Ajjut for good measure. It's just like making up a minestra in an ok let's see what I'm going to throw in kind of thing. But no, you don't even stop to think what you're going to throw in. That's the beauty of it all. It's spontaneous improvisation, a very classy one. And it sounds something like... Ajjuutttt, screams, ten times... AJJJJUUUTTTT! That's my girl!

Designer?

I am wondering why there's designer bags, designer jewellery, designer furniture, designer houses, designer fabric, designer perfume, designer this and that. But when it comes to laundry... is there something like a designer fabric conditioner? Is there anything like a designer laundry detergent? I don't think so. But I'd love that. Imagine having a Cavalli fabric conditioner! Now wouldn't that be something. I'd probably buy so many to last me till the last time I would be able to wash my own pantyhose. Because you really don't expect someone to wash your pantyhose in an old people's home. They will probably leave you without just to save and scrimp on the washing. I hope I will be able to stand on a stick so I can beat people up when the time come for me to retire gracefully in a home. I'll be this really scary old woman. And if I won't have a stick, then I'll just buy a broom from Tal-Lira which sells everything at 2 Euro. And it keeps calling itself tal-Lira. Funny people, maybe they want to make people laugh and make them forget about the credit crunch. Come to think of it, I think tal-Lira sells pantyhose, but not designer pantyhose. I think I've just tapped into an empty market. There really are no designer detergents. I've never seen any. Not in Milan, not in Paris, not even in Malta. But then, shopping is not exactly all about detergents. Or maybe it's just me.

Funny in-laws

It so seems that entries about my in-laws are making people laugh. I'm glad. Because at least someone is getting pleasure out of it. I don't laugh because I think they are pathetic. And yes I know we should treat old people with respect, but make it all the old people in the world except for them. Trust me to bag the strangest in-laws ever. They are so tragic that the wheel has turned full circle and now they have become comic. Now I know the in-law subject is the subject of jokes, but these are one big circus. Not even Joe Demicoli has heard of something like this. Screening if good. Going away on a private island would be even better, and I'm certain my in-laws have the money for it, but of course they're so poor jahasra. Poor my ass, my bank account is that of a church mouse compared to theirs, but they still insist they're so bloody poor. Which makes my blood boil. Why are my parents so different? I am so glad that the don't talk to my in-laws, if that ever had to happen... no it's not happening, not if I can help it. True, there is one whole age gap difference between them, but I remember my grandparents very well, and they were nothing of the sort either. They were sweet people who wore their hearts on their sleeve, and it's not because 'chi muore diventa santo'. Not one bit. It's a something which Shakespeare would have lapped up in one minute and turned it into another famous tragedy... or comedy. Their kids aren't very different. Their three-nippled daughter with the famous mole on her upper lip sprouting hair as fast as rabbits copulate is a nasty piece of work. She is stupid, no other word for it. But she suddenly turns into a fully-fledged account when she likes. And I know that having more than three nipples can go into the diversity diagram, but tell me, if you had three nipples, wouldn't you do something about that? And tell me again, if you had a nasty hair mole on your upper lip, wouldn't you go to Estetika or Arani Issa and get it removed? I would, faster than the speed of light. If you knew your mother was talking about the size of your manhood, wouldn't you just put a plastic bag over her head and suffocate her? Or at least duct-tape her mouth, doing her the favour of waxing her upper lip, which badly needs a thorough waxing anyway, in the process? What about the daddy? Good for nothing useless asshole who is scared of dogs, ceiling fans and open windows, who is the most selfish of the lot? He's scared of doing anything with his bazwa, so he keeps it and treasures it as if it were the treasured possessions he has 'taht il-maduma'. It's so strange that their other son is so different to them. You'd think he was brought up in a regal family, with his good manners, his intellect, his kindness also. Probably because he was unplanned, so the genes started working in all opposite directions. Or maybe, he's not their son... someone else's. But of course pure mother in law in her transparent nightdress would never admit to that.