Tschüs, tschüs zu den zwei Scheiße

No I am not trying to impress with my knowledge of the German language. I couldn't because the only phrases I know in German are chat-up lines and I cannot post them here because perhaps little people are reading. You never know who's reading these days, I seem to have tonnes of followers and I'm grateful to them all. They make my day. So I actually had to look the title up. It was just what I was looking for. Translated into the English language, a language which I can safely boast of understanding, it comes to 'Bye bye bulshitters'. And I love it, I love the sound of my sudden pronunciation of German. The next think I know I'll be looking at my reflection in a puddle. But I won't drown in it. Because I've just been fished up, and I'm gloating in the glory. These bullshitters. There were actually four of them. One just loved handkerchiefs, probably to wipe off the imaginary spunk. Because he thought that he was having a hell of a sexy influence on the ladies. Not on me. And that's not because I'm not a lady, but because some bullshitter's spunk tastes, well, I don't know what it tastes like but I sure know that it smells like bullshit. He had this really cheesy bodyguard too. As bodyguards go, I could have swiped at him and transformed him into dust on the ground. But he was keen on in-the-middle-of-the-night parties too, especially when on tour. His train of thought was sad, he actually thought that a girl like me would be enticed by a packet of crisps. How sad. But it was a whole quartet, 2 men, 2 women. One specific woman would glare at me, but then I was never sure where her eyes where looking. They seemed to roll around on their own axis in a funny kind of orbit. Last but not least, the woman left too seemed to look funny at people, but I think, no, I'm sure, the alcohol was at the bottom of it. She could have been Bacchus' and Dionysus' illegitimate daughter, brought about by a Godly gay incestuous relationship by her fast way of downing the booze. We *are* talking about booze here, and with that come bottles, and if you want to believe me then you should just take a trip to Mater Dei's casualty to find out how many people resort to solo bottle-loving. And now the crap's gone. Because the bulls have been kicked out. They were just horny bulls without the horns. They were evil. They tried to kick my ass, but never could because they never had the horns. I wonder what they're doing now. I know they're not very pleased. And I'm ok with that, because every bitch has her day. Bye bye bull-shitters. The bitch is back.

Parasites

It seems that my in-law woes have sparked a lot of interest. Everybody's siding with me, and I love that of course. Except for one guy who thinks I should go a little bit easy on them. But that's because he has his own selfish reasons.... because if I had to have my way and wipe them off the face of the earth, then his pocket would suffer. Or perhaps he's genuinely concerned. I don't know, and I don't care either. But someone has been very generous in offering me a whole family of silverfish. I am speechless, I didn't expect this kind of kindness. But I guess someone out there really knows what I mean. I need parasites. Because it will take parasites to wipe out more parasites. And some silverfish wouldn't go amiss. Although a nasty thought is coming to me right now, silverfish eat their way through books, through paper. And Euro is in paper form, well at least the type of Euro that interests me. And since I want to live long enough to inherit those Euro, well, maybe I might give a miss on the silverfish. Yes again I think all the Euro are 'taht il-maduma' and I don't think that silverfish can eat their way through tiles. Or maybe they could work their way through a crevice? Hmmm, it could happen. So I guess I have to say thanks but no thanks to the one who offered me the silverfish. I need more parasites.....

Woodworm

There I was shutting out the mother in law completely... she ruins my Sunday sleep-in. Well truth be told, I have a sleep-in Monday, a sleep-in Tuesday. That still doesn't let her off the hook, which is what I should have done with my phone... put it off the hook. But I can't just switch myself off to the outside world because of a brat like her. Thing is, she's singing a new kind of tune now. What about 200 Euro? 200 Euro? That will barely cover the cost of my foundation, tampons and pantie liners for a month. Because, it so happens that the brat still starts thinking that 200 Euro is very similar to LM200... whenever it suits her of course. Sometimes, and at all times with people like this one, you have to try and think as greedy as they do. I see her antiques which she thinks she's taking with her on to the next world. And I'd love to kick them in. But something else has done the thing for me. Woodworm. I used to hate woodworm, we string players fear them like nothing else. But a whole family of them at my kunjata's has been doing the job silently yet as deadly as I'd have liked it to be. It must have been a whole incestuous family of woodworm too, nothing could have eaten away so silently at a couple of prized antiques. It was the only time I laughed when the brat called to give me the news. I punched the air in joy and could not contain myself. I laughed, oh how I laughed. And I wanted to see for myself, so I took a trip down to her house (which almost never happens) to see the worm bites. Terrific woodworm. And I didn't even have to lift a finger. Classy, chic woodworm, all probably wearing Chanel peep-toes. And all having the appetite of a bull. So now I'm taking yet another trip... and perhaps planting a whole new family of woodworm. Only problem is... where do I find such a family?