Mi madre esta loca

My mum has a thing for foreign language CDs. Italian, Arabic, Turkish, it all goes. She doesn't understand a single word that is being sung, but this doesn't deter her from warbling along with the tune - badly I might add. Her favourites are always Spanish, whether it's Jennifer Lopez, Enrique Iglesias or her beloved Shakira. She recently bought her new album when we were in Marbella and it has been playing on our CD player on repeat since then. Which is fine, I like me some Shakira, Shakira, but what actually drives me and my sister insane is when she insists on singing to the Spanish version of 'She Wolf' ('Loba') in English, and doesn't even get those words right. And she can never resist imitating her dance moves either, despite the fact that her bellydancing skills leave a lot to be desired.
But the worst part is when she gets out her sparkly hip wrap (with hundreds of tiny gold coins attached for added musical effect), hits play on the stereo, and actually performs these moves in front of guests. At this point I walk away, get the white wine out and try to down the bottle with my eyes closed. I can still hear it, but at least this way I don't have to witness the tragedy that is unfolding before me.