My mother won't stop commenting on my blog title. I can tell we are really going to get close these next couple of months. Whether I like it or not. No mom, no my friends know there are no bears in Moscow. Yes yes it IS a bustling city, and there is much commerce (I am almost positive that she doesn't actually know what this word means but has heard it used in a similar context). Yes I'll be sure to mention how there are not that many bears in the city... What the fuck? not MANY bears? why the fuck are there bears? WHAT?!? Circuses... ok. The Zoo... ok. What do you mean Museums? Oh dead ones... ok. WHAT DO YOU MEAN STREET PERFORMERS?!?! Oh dear god just please go get me some grapes, I have no idea what you are talking about. Thank you.
Toy Story is on in the background and its that scene where Buzz and Woody are meeting all the deformed toys in that bad boys room and my little brother is scared. This means he is no longer jumping up and down on the couch but has his arms wrapped around my neck and is whimpering. Fucking Adorable. I had to add the fucking because my lil bro is bad ass ALWAYS. Oh ok so it's a different scene now and I am no longer Fearless Defender against Scary Movie Scenes but Head Lego Constructer (...of the universe I hope). I've missed this. It's true.
The flight was pretty uneventful, except I got pretty tipsy on the plane when I realized they served complimentary mini bottles of wine. Tipsy to the point where I was getting offended that they weren't carding me and though I didn't want to bitch at the nice Flight Attendant who was slipping me free extra bottles, I did begin to mutter something about laws and bullshit. I vaguely remember just repeating "ohbutNOWthatiamLEGAL" and "thisisBULLSHIT". I probably sounded like the Tourettes Guy. The drinking of the wine led to my feeling a tad warm so I stripped to my tank top and INSTANTLY became much more fascinating to the poseur Russian guy who was sitting next to me. Suddenly the fact that he hadn't introduced himself became something he would be "ashamed" about FOREVER and he actually used the line "I was just intimidated by your beauty". Oh please. Come on. I am not beautiful. I am drunk and showing cleavage. Let's just call a pear a pear. Or however that quote goes. So he began trying out various lines... I began to not-so-subtly mock him and for some fucked up reason he thought I was being cute and began hitting on me in earnest. To the point where he suggested we meet up in the city. God Russian men are such egotistical assholes. This is how the conversation went:
Stupid Guy: So, Masha... seriously... you are funny.
Me: No. No I am not, I am being mean. I really do hate your shirt.
Stupid Guy: Hahaha
Me: (trying to enunciate clearly) YOUR. SHIRT. IS. STUPID.
Stupid Guy: We should meet in the city, I'll take you out.
Me: No.
Stupid Guy: We can go to a bar, you can tell me more about how my shirt sucks. I'll even give you a chance to take it off.
Me: (Open-mouthed Stare)
Stupid Guy: So what's your number?
Me: Ihaveaboyfriend. (I clear my throat. repeat slower). I have a boyfriend.
Stupid Guy: You are just saying that. Plus I am cuter.
Me: No. NO. He is cuter. And real. And cuter. And doesn't wear stupid shirts.
Stupid Guy: Oh yeah?
Me: Yes. In fact you are so not as awesome as he is that talking to you is insulting and I am going to go to sleep now and you may no longer talk to me.
Stupid Guy: HAHA. You are funny. And cute.
This continued for some time. I hate him. 8 hours of this I endured. Good god. Then these Russian passport control ladies were total bitches to me because I hadn't signed the passport. Ok, well give it back to me and I'll sign it. They rolled their eyes and one sniffed in a haughty manner. Bitch. Shut up.
Ok I have to go fulfill my sisterly duties and construct a Lego truck for George. I will be on later. I don't think I'm going to go anywhere tonight. Well except maybe the blues bar that is ACROSS THE STREET.
