Halloween et al.

Yesterday was Halloween and Mr. Irish and I threw a bash. There were, at one point in the evening, over 20 people crammed into our flat. It was a good mix of English teachers and Russians and, surprisingly, only the Russians showed up in costumes.

I had tried to get a costume together but for the life of me I couldn't find anything. Add the fact that I don't know where to look, I can't ask for help at the stores, and I don't get much time off work and I was pretty much out of luck. I attempted to fashion a toga out of a bed sheet but after thirty minutes of trying to figure it out I gave up. I did carve a jack-o-lantern and get pissed-up, however.

Yesterday it snowed in Moscow and the snow hasn't left the ground yet. It wasn't a big white blast, but it was enough to let us know that winter is coming. It was the wet and windy kind of snow that flutters down intermittently, like a preview of what's to come.

I also apparently have a Russian girlfriend, whom I'll call Katerina. I met this 100-lbs brunette through a Russian friend of mine. He had invited me out to a pub ("Beerokratia"...that's an awesome name for a pub) with some of his friends, and she was one of them. At first her flat stomach and great legs had stood out in my mind but the vast

majority of Russian women have those things going for them. The deal was clinched when she panted in my ear "I want to kiss you!". Needless to say I was game, and I've been out with her a few times. It's great having a Russian to navigate all the impossibilities of Moscow for me, and we're going to St. Petersburg next week. It's great having a girl, sitting on my lap at a party, who has two University degrees and has traveled parts of Europe and who actually looks like a model in a bikini. The best part is that I didn't have to do anything but show up at the bar!

Near the end of the Halloween party, around 4 am, the telephone rang and a new friend of mine, a hilarious Russian guy I'll call Medical Lobster (long story that I don't completely understand), answered. It was the attendant who sits in the "lobby" of our building and had called the militsia on us for noise violation.

Most of us foreigners, and most Russians for that matter, do everything they can to avoid the famed corrupt police of Russia, so as soon as Medical Lobster announced that the militsia were on the way people started looking at their mobile phone clocks and stating "Oh, look at the time. I have to be going!" Ten minutes after the call there were 5 people left (not including four people passed out in Mr. Irish's room, two random people passed out on my floor and Katerina passed out in my bed).

Together with four other survivors I stayed up drinking for another hour or so and vaguely remember somebody scrambling all our eggs in one big frying pan and somebody squatting on their haunches and telling jokes in an Irish accent. It might have been the same guy. I don't really remember.

I woke up this afternoon in my bed, fully clothed, next to Katerina. Somehow, somebody had broken our bathroom sink.

Halloween. Snow. Waking up next to a hot Russian brunette. People you've never met passed out on your floor. Broken bathroom. Russian police.

These are all signs of a great party!

Canadian Rejection

I am a dummy with women. It doesn't matter which culture they are from, I just cannot pick up on the subtelties of female communication.

In my evening class of adults there is a blonde bombshell named Natasha who looks like a cross between Jewel and Anna Kornikova. She's 24 years old and has a Masters degree in international finance. She has long blonde hair down to the small of her back, big crystal-blue eyes and long legs that always end underneath a short black skirt. She asked me out tonight.

Me, being a dummy and an English teacher, didn't pick up on it right away.

"Do you like Russia?" She asked. "Yes, actually, I love Russia!" I responded, because I do love this country.
"What do you do on the weekends?" she asked.
"I don't know. It's been something different every weekend." I replied.
"Do you walk on Sunday?" She asked.
"No, I usually go into Moscow." I answered.

Doh! This whole conversation occured as the class was getting their jackets on to go home, and it wasn't until ten minutes after everybody had left that I realized that she meant "Would you like to go for a walk on Sunday?"!!!

In Russia, the first date is traditionally a walk through a park followed by tea followed by sex, and here is the stupid Canadian, Mr. Atethepaint.

After I had figured out that a simple error in grammar had ruined a potentially fantastic weekend, I recounted the story to Ms. Australia, Ms. Tenessee, Quagmire and Wonderpants, and they all roared with laughter at me. They have seen this girl and agree that she is particularly hot, even by Russian standards. "You Canadians are dense!" Ms. Australia mocked.

Seriously, though. I am an English teacher and we've been plugging the past simple and present perfect for two weeks now. "Do you walk on Sunday?" has a completely different meaning from "Would you like to go for a walk on Sunday?"

Stupid New English File textbook series. Why couldn't they start the first chapter off with prepositions? That way English teachers could date their students without such awkwardness. I'm going to write an EFL textbook called "Real World English" and it will involve..well, real English.

Otherwise, how do people expect to pick up their English teachers?

Nova Scotia, Vodka & Irish Girls

I want to talk about three things in this blog post: Nova Scotia, vodka, and Irish girls.

Okay. So, as you read this pretend that you know that I'm really drunk. It's a Monday night and Mr. Irish and I just polished off two bottles of vodka and chased them with pickles and orange juice. The telephone just rang about ten minutes ago. I answered because Mr. Irish stumbled off to bed a few moments before. "Allyo?" I answered, as is standard in Russia. Some babushka flew a stream of Russian at me. "Ya nye gavaroo pa-Rooski!" I replied ("I don't speak Russian"...in Russian). She kept swearing at me in Russian and, for some reason but probably related to two bottles of vodka, I said to her in French "Mercis Madame, mais maintenant je ne comprends pas la Rus. Bon soir!" and I hung up the phone.

The reason she had called is because Mr. Irish and I had been watching traditional Irish folk songs on YouTube. Last week I bought some speakers for my laptop at a chain called "Ion" and they have some good volume capality. I introduced Mr. Irish to 'Barrett's Privateers', which is one of my favourite Nova Scotia songs and reflects a HUGE part of the difference between Americans and Canadians and Mr. Irish loved it! We were both banging our fists on the the chair and singing away.

"I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears...
I'm a broken man on the Halifax pier
The last of Barret's Privateers"

I love Nova Scotia. I love it so much...anyways.....

Mr. Irish typed up some Irish folk songs and they were all so damn beautiful. The history and sense of cultural/ethnical pride in Irish songs is beyond words. It's beautiful. It really is. And these were YouTube videos of both celebrities and regular folk singing. One thing I noticed, and I've noticed in all my experiences, is that the Irish-Scottish look is so damn beautiful. Some men have an Asian fetish; I have a Celtic fetish. Irish and Scottish women, to me, are the most beautiful creatures on the planet. There is nothing more intoxicating, more soul-wrenching or more feminine than an Irish lass singing an Irish song. She need not be a pencil-thin
Asian or Russian but she can still be so damn beautiful!

Goddamn vodka. I can't escape it here in Russia. Even on a quiet Monday night my flatmate and I polished off two bottles. Fortunately I don't have a class until 17:15. For some strange reason an "hour" in Russian schools counts as 45 minutes. These are "academic hours". A real hour of 60 minutes is considered an "astronomical hour" (because one hour is so damn astronomical). So my Tuesday class is 2 academic hours starting at 17:15. Where else in the world can you get completely pissed on vodka, dream of Irish girls, work for an hour and a half late in the evening the next day, and get paid $2,000 a month? Not in Canada. Not anywhere but Russia!

A woman's voice singing Irish folk songs while you drink Russian vodka and dream of Nova Scotia makes for a fantastic Monday evening!

Slante!

Yoga or Sex?

Try to guess if she's in a yoga position or a sex position...


Click Here Play Sex or Yoga Game at LiquidGeneration.com