JELLA, A BI-LINGUAL CAT!

Dear Diary,

Being bi-lingual is cool and I know that I'm going to be one bi-lingual cat in no time. The process is confusing and daunting but exciting at the same time.

You see, Mommy speaks American and Daddy speaks British. There are similarities in both languages but let me tell you this, it's confusing as hell sometimes. It took me forever to understand Daddy because of the way he talks. I got used to it. Now, even Mommy talks like Daddy, especially when they're on the couch, the dining table, against the refrigerator, and most often than not, in their bedroom.

Maybe, location is an important factor to learn Daddy's language. Daddy's technique is much better that Rosetta Stone. I bet it's tiring because of all the moaning and all that panting and gasping during the lesson... and, oh my god... the perspiration and the hard breathing after! Jeez! I guess now that I think about it, Rosetta Stone is an easier way to learn British. But then again, Daddy's teaching mommy using his technique is not only cheaper, but more effective.

Words in British and American are the same but don't have the same meaning at all. This where I get soooooo confused.

Example:

One time, Mommy was in the kitchen baking pies that me and Daddy love. Daddy came out from their bedroom clad only in his low-rise jeans, hair still wet from his shower.

"Smells good, baby," Daddy said, giving mommy the smile that makes her sigh.

"COME here," Mommy responded, flicking her index finger. (This, I know that Mommy spoke American: Come, meaning, to move toward; travel toward something or somebody or approach something or somebody.)

And because Daddy is obedient just as I am, he practically flew to mommy. Then, their hands were all over each other; petting each other. Mommy loves my fur after I bathe. So, I wasn't surprised at all when Mommy ran her palms on Daddy's fur after he showered. You couldn't actually see Daddy's fur (other than the hair on his head, of course) when he's fully clothed. But Oooh, they're there... Mommy knows where to find them. And boy how she loved petting Daddy!

That's when I know, it's lesson time!

I am most certain that when Mommy cooks or bakes, she gets tired because she's on her feet the whole time. So, during this particular moment, after Mommy said, "come here," then started to pet Daddy; Daddy was sooooo considerate to lift Mommy up and sit her on the counter and offer his face for Mommy to lick.

"What do you want, baby?" Daddy asked, his mouth against Mommy's skin, peeling off Mommy's clothes. (Another technique Daddy uses: No clothes during lessons).

"FUCK Me!" Mommy screamed.

Whoa! This was where I got confused. You see, after living with Mommy for a while now, I know that when she's pissed or totally upset, she yells, "Fuck!" However, in British, the word FUCK has another meaning. It's actually not a word to express dislike or distress or being pissed off. Daddy taught Mommy that FUCK in British is a good thing. I am still trying to figure out what it really means to tell you honestly. FUCK in British is somehow a kind of strenuous dance by two people who love each other. But this dance concentrates more on humping... soft humps at first, then gradually becomes harder and harder! Then, you sort of twitch and jerk to end the dance. Daddy and Mommy have already perfected this dance step... this FUCK move.

So, I kinda know now that when Mommy and Daddy say, "Fuck the Paparazzi," they meant the American meaning of the word. And when they say it while dancing, they meant the British Fuck.

So, to continue...

Then, after some minutes of British FUCK dancing, Mommy groaned, "Baby, I'm gonna COME!" Daddy panted, "Yes! COME with me, baby!"

CONFUSING! Come in British is another thing! Ugh! How can Mommy and Daddy COME closer when they're literally glued together; no more space to come closer to?!? Let me tell you, dear diary, it confuses the hell out of me. Now, when Mommy or Daddy say, "COME here, Jella!" I don't know whether to walk towards them or groan... or moan... or just "meow!"

We've covered the difference between American and British FUCK and COME. Let's go to the next word: "HEAD!"

I have a head. You, diary, probably have head. Even ants have head. Everyone has a head. Even lettuce has one. ONE HEAD! JUST ONE! Head in America means: The UPPER part of the human body or the front part of the body in animals; contains the face and brains.

Well, apparently, in British language, HEAD is something else. You see-- back to my story --- After the British FUCK dance, Daddy gave mommy another lesson... well, a few minutes later, that is. A little after their breathing became somewhat normal... Mommy hopped off the counter and started petting Daddy again. This was when I realized that Daddy, too, liked to grip Mommy's soft hair. Then, Daddy pushed Mommy down until she was kneeling on the floor, facing Daddy's crotch.

"Yes... Baby... Yes! Ahhhh... Suck me... Baby, lick the head... suck the head... Ahhh... Baby, you give HEAD sooo good!"  Then, Daddy moaned and groaned again and again. And just like the British FUCK Dance, Daddy twitched and jerked at the end of the lesson. Hmm... Maybe... just maybe... Daddy has two heads! I don't know... I'm hella confused.

I conclude, therefore, that in British language, HEAD means a Mommy kneeling down, licking and sucking a Daddy's crotch. I'm so proud of Mommy, dear diary. She's a fast learner. This makes Daddy really, really proud of Mommy. Because after the HEAD lesson, Daddy said, "I love you, Baby... So very much!" Over and over, showering mommy kisses and licks.

Now, we've covered, FUCK, COME, and HEAD. The last word I'm going to share with you, dear diary, is the word "BAD."

In American language, BAD means having undesirable or negative qualities.  When I'm bad, Mommy screams, "Bad, Jella!"  Then, she puts me on a time out.  That's an indication that what I did displeased mommy.  And yet, in British language, BAD means GOOD!  Ay-yay-yay!  It's totally fucked up!  (I meant American FUCK!). 

Moments later, mommy started to wash the dishes but then decided to aim the spray faucet at daddy.  Mommy was laughing as Daddy tackled Mommy.  That was how the next lesson began.  Daddy spun Mommy around and forced mommy to bend down the counter and used his knees to spread her legs apart.  "You are BAD, baby!  Very BAD!"  Daddy said but not quite angry.  I thought I'd be forced to call for help!  Then, Mommy said, "What are you gonna do about it?"  Daddy spank mommy's soft bottom which made Mommy whimper! 

"Yes! Give it to me, Baby."  Mommy sobbed as Daddy pushed his loin behind mommy... Perhaps to cover Mommy's exposed butt!  Gosh, it could have been embarrassing if Uncle Tom or Grandma Jules came in that moment... You know... with Mommy's ass sticking out like that!

On thing though, every lesson that Daddy gives Mommy ends in yelling, twitching, and jerking and heavy breathing!  Thank god, these lessons always make Daddy and Mommy really, really satisfied and always happy!  Daddy is a good teacher and Mommy is a good student.  Maybe when Mommy comes home, she's going to teach Daddy the American language.  It's going to be fun because I am fluent in American language.  I'll laugh my ass off if Daddy's gonna suck!

Sigh...

As I've said, dear diary... It's difficult to learn another language but I'm learning.  I'm not as fast learner as Mommy is.  Soon though, this cat writing to you right now will be bi-lingual:  American and British! 

Until the next lesson,

Jella