Day 10 (Or the day that Polina got her dance on Ya'll)

"Your freckled face is out of this fucking world when surrounded in that beautiful lace made of dark hair". The one thing that I have to give to Russian men is that no matter how drunk, or ugly, or even busted-eyed they may be (fights happen a lot here), they still whip out the prettiest, most poetic pick lines that I've ever heard. That's right folks. Polina finally went out. And as you'll soon see it was completely unintentional.
The day started out as uneventful as usual. My mother and I prepared to treck out ("to catch some (invisible) sun" as my mother once again insisted), and get some simple tasks done, such as file and paint my nails (motherfucking finally!) and buy a few items such as a digital card reader (pictures coming soon at last.) Naturally, my mother told me to get ready and put my coat on incessantly for about 15 minutes until I finally gave in and did it. After this she proceeded to run around the apartment for, I swear a solid hour more, and in the end said that she wasn't feeling well and had to lie down and that I should just go wait for her outside. Shit, I was already sitting out in the hall smoking fevourishly and trying to stop all the bad thoughts about killing her from flooding my imagination. But anyway, eventually we managed to make it out the door.

We went to Gostinii Dvor (this is a nightmarish shopping mall that has a very special smell because they're mixing like a thousand different things because they've got the perfume store right next to the cheese shop, which is right next to the sporting goods store which is right next to the shoe polish store). Thankfully, we were only in there for a minute. But then I got to experience that which I can finally call Bladerunner. Yay for me! We walked in this really busted alleyway that went on forever, and by busted I mean there were filed down stone steps and wooden planks (under construuuction everybody) and every few steps, both the lighting and the music/soundeffects changed because every few meters was crammed with another shop selling another pile of crap, and it was both futuristic and totally Caucasion ghetto at the same time. In other words, Bladerunner. Oh, and obviously it was filled to the brim with chels.

Ok, I'm going to try to speed it up here because this isn't a fucking diary and I know all about people's attention spans and blogs.
After we bought all of our crap, my mother took me to this place that used to be called "The Starbar" and is now called "Chort Poberi" which means "Damn it". This place was special. It was Rockabilly. I hadn't encountered this phenomenon in the U.S., but I know that it exists there. Everyone was dressed very 50's. Some people were wearing straight up cowboy outfits. And in between all of these, there were waves of anarchist punks and Antifa (for those not in the know, these are youth antifashists). Over all, a really cute atmosphere with mostly Johnny Cash, Elvis, and random country music playing in the background. I mean NYC hipsters have nothing on these people. They've ventured so far beyond the realm of ironic, that they can't remember what it looks like.
Then a boring interlude when I went to get my nails did around the corner from this place. People, Russians suck at doing nails. I'm sorry, but I miss my little Chinese Lily who gave me backrubs while my nails dried. Also, she wasn't a bitch like Yulia, who did my nails here. But to be fair, Yulia was prettier to look at and had immaculate nails herself. Which also confirmed for me that she sucks at doing nails. Anyone that has ever had a manicure knows what I'm talking about.
After I came back to Damn It, my mother grabbed me while screaming some incoherent shit about being on a list for LaMiNore and we cabbed it to some other place where a very very large man refused to let us in. Also, he was scary. Also, he was the security, obviously. Eventually, these bastards got their shit together long enough to actually find the list that we were supposed to be on, and as a complete surprise to me (we'd been standing in the rain for about 20 minutes at this point) we were on the list and the doors magically opened for us. This place wasn't as cool, but it was filled with beautiful friendly people, free coat check amazing food upstairs, and a great band venue. And when the band went on, the band called LaMiNore, I forgot for a minute where I was and thought that I was back at Mehanata during a live show. Of course, then I noticed that there were no dark skinned people anywhere, dancing or otherwise, and the illusion was broken. Still, it was an awesome band, all of whom are my mum's friends. (See people, crazy mothers are still good for some shit, such as partying and meeting cool people who think that her very obvious insanity is actually quaint eccentricity). So I met a bunch of great musicians, listened and danced to some awesome music, and had a good time in general. Finally, gawd damn it.

Oh, one last thing. I witnessed this one dude, who got so drunk that he started grabbing all the people around him. I thought that he was trying to fight them or something, but strangely, he seemed to want a hug. This was a giant gopnik with short cropped hair and no neck. Just try to imagine how comical this looked. Of course, eventually he decided that he needed a hug from a female, and both she and her boyfriend objected. So at some point, she ended up in a very angry sandwich between the life-loving, hug-seeking gopnik, and her totally angry punk boyfriend. That shit was also comical.
Also, a man asked me why he had the bad luck of being in a lesbian bar after I declined his sweaty offer to dance. So I'll end this post the approximately as I started it. You gotta love Russian men.

Night 9 or 10 (Or the night that St. Petersburg finally gave me a reason to fall in Love with it just a little bit)

Ok people. I know that I've been complaining about this place a lot lately, or rather almost non-stop, but tonight, this city did something pretty for me. I went out to my mum's hallway to have a smoke (because damn it that woman won't let me smoke anything other than coffee scented cigars in her apartment) and saw fireworks out the window. And it wasn't like some small children firing off some firecrackers or some bullshit like that. It was like 4th of July fireworks. And they went on for a solid 20 minutes. And you know why they were there? Somebody's birthday. That's right. That's how rich people roll here. And even though I'm living with my mum at the moment and this may seem sort of pathetic, fuck you all because I live in a part of town where you can see amazing fireworks randomly out of your window. So thanks St. Petersburg! I don't hate you as much any more. (Even though you're still cold and scary and full of skinheads and bad radio)

P.S.
I didn't really mean that fuck you. Please don't stop coming here. I was just kidding.

Day 9 or 10 (Or the Day I went to my Job and Finally took the Subway)

People, today was a good day. But before I get into that, let me just say this. Blyad yobonaya v rot!!! What the fuck!!! The internet was down for two days again. Now the last time, it was explained away by some drunk plowing his car into a telephone line. This has significance over here because all the internets is still dial-up. Yes good people. Dial up. So how do they explain it this time? Have they just not fully fixed it from the last time (which wouldn't surprise me at all, because this is in fact what's called 'dealing with problems with Russian efficiency), or has another cracked-out drunken gopnik, plowed into yet another ill-placed telephone line on his way back to the whore house? The phone company is keeping it a secret this time. Either way, it's not as funny the second time around.

Anyway, back to how nice my day was. I think that I've finally stopped freaking out terribly, panic wise, so the blog won't be as funny anymore, because as one of my friends put it, other people's panic is comedy to everyone else. But that's ok. I can still be informative.

I went to check out my new job today, where I'll be starting on Monday. I'll be working completely under the table for $1500 a month. That's not very much money anywhere, but at least it's tax free. During my initial meeting with my new boss, she called in the dude that I'll be replacing to talk about how he plans to train me to do his job, which he's not even getting fired from, but rather moving to the editorial department. And do you know what this little predatel says? He says "well, there's really no work right now. There's nothing to do in that position at all for the rest of the year because we haven't released any new books in a while." Basically dear friends, this little bitch is trying to get me fired before I've even started. Because even though $1500 may not seem like much, over here, given the current CRISIS (oh yeah, I'm going to caplock that shit from now on in order to distinguish it from any number of crisis that I might go through myself) it's still an assload of salary. Thanks a lot Alex, you fucking asshole. Hope I do your job way better than you did and show you out as the little incompetent bitch that you is.

On a lighter note, I finally took the subway and it's not nearly as scary as I thought it would be. I had these nightmarish memories of being dragged down to one of the circles of Dante's inferno, on a super fast escalator that made my head spin. But actually it wasn't nearly as fast or as deep. (that's what she said).

Just a few more comments and we'll be all done.

1. Russian people love their tea. They also love to make everyone else drink their tea. If I see one more cup of tea, I'm going to learn whether it's actually possible to fit a tea saucer into a human anal cavity.

2. Russian women love high heels and have the magical ability to wear them out, no matter how craggly or fucked up the sidewalks are, and I'm going to have to learn to do this as well.

3.Never ever, ever, move back in with your Russian mother, in Russia. Even if she's not batshit crazy like mine is. No matter what, she is going to force you to wear that same uncomfortable outfit that you had to wear in Russia as a little girl in the winter time. The one that you could't move your arms or legs in very well. The one that scratched the shit out of your throat. Yeah... that one. And you're going to walk around like an asshole in that, while all the women around you that are not living with their moms, are dressed in pretty, high heels, tight pants, and little itty bitty jackets.

That's all for today folks, hope it wasn't too much.

Day 8 (or the first day that I didn't lose my shit outside)

OK, PEOPLE, I WOULD HAVE POSTED THIS SHIT TWO DAYS AGO, BUT THE INTERNETS WEREN'T WORKING, SO I'LL BE POSTING ANOTHER ONE RIGHT AFTER THIS ONE.

Yeah, so today I went outside and finally didn't lose my shit. No hyperventilating or fight or flight. Yay!

Still a little shaky toward the end of my forced walk (forced by my overseer obviously, who insists that I need to see the sun everday), but not as bad today.

And speaking of the sun, I've encountered an interesting phenomenon here. Everyone cheerily tells me to look at the sun every morning, and when I point out that the sun is this little yellow circle in the sky that gives off warmth, and which there isn't the slightest sign of anywhere in the sky, and all I see are gray fucking clouds, the response is "right, that's the american sun. Here, when we say 'look at the sun', we just mean look at how not dark it is." So this basically surmises Russian attitude. It's like "we know that it's all cloudy and shit, but somewhere behind those clouds, there's a sun, and that makes us piss ourselves with happiness. Just knowing that it's there." I'm going to have to adopt this somehow, or I won't last here.

Let's see, my mum and I went to exchange some of my dollars to rubles, the exchange rate being great for me because the ruble is totes losing it's value again. Yes! This country is heading straight back for the third world financially, again. So when we went to do this little exchange, the guard wouldn't let me go with my mum to the cashier because only one of us can go at a time so as not to "distract the cashier." I hadn't realized that we look like such con artists, or that the cashier who handles foreign currency has ADD, but whatever.

So then the guard is like "why do you need to go in there anyway?" And I calmly explained that I hadn't changed currency in a long time and wanted to see how it's done here. His response was to ask me if I'd spent my schooling years in a "special institution." I can only assume that he basically just asked me if I was in special ed. But that's ok, because I just responded with a dirty look and he lost interest in me completely.

Then we went to a really nice tea house where I got some awesome soup and a piece of pie for something like 6 dollars altoghether. I kind of love that about this country. Ok, so maybe Russia's not so bad. I'm still on the fence though.

And, on the plus side, I finally found a manicure place. They also do wax facial hair removal. So good by mustache! No need to come to the motherland looking like Yosomite Sam. The best was when my mum asked this very polite and well groomed lady at the counter if they plan on ripping my whole face off with the wax, or just the mustache. The lady gave her a sarcastic look, and my mum was like "what? You're putting hot wax on her face. Doesn't it ever happen that you burn a person's face off or something? Do you do these often?" The lady kind of stopped looking or talking to her at this point and just directed all of her responses to me. Which I encouraged fully.

And the last little bit of info for today is that I found an awesome hostel right here on Nevsky, smack dab in the middle of the city and only about a five minute walk from where I'm staying. A four person room is about 30 bucks per person per day. These are perfectly European and reasonable prices. They also have 8 people rooms that are a bit cheaper. But the place is awesome with wireless internets and a kitchen and private bathrooms and showers. Totally clean and polite. So if anyone wants to come for a visit before I get my own place, this is something to keep in mind.

Ok, so that's it for today. I khow it wasn't that interesting, but it was more of an informative post for those who are taking an interest in the motherland.

Oh, and here's a pin up of me that a lovely photographer named Grace took shortly before I departed our loving country.

Day 6

Yesterday, for about 4 hours, there was no water. There. was. no. water. Ok.
Then, some drunken gopnik plowed his car into a telephone line near the Technoloshka station, and there was no internet. It's still acting all hokey. Ok, ok, so, no water, and no internet. That's ok, that doesn't make this Siberia, or way more like the U.S.S.R. than I ever wanted to get this close to again. I'm going to do some breathing exercises now...

...

Ok, I feel a little better. Oh, did I mention that yesterday on my way to my mother's place I was forced to listen to Russian radio for about an hour? Yes, and you know what they said? That they heard that Obama is naming Dr. Dre his Chief of Staff or the Surgeon General or something. Ah, I've missed that subtle Russian racism.

I've taken to reading the St. Petersburg Times. It's a paper for expats, just chock full of useful information. For instance here are some stories and headlines:
-- Medvedev Tells Police to Quell Signs of Crisis-Linked Unrest
Ok, this is a really cute little story about how now that there's another economic Crisis, kind of like there was 10 years ago, with unemployment rates going up, the street crime is going to rocket back up to New York in the 80's levels. I didn't believe my father when he threatened me with this, but apparently it's true. Also, they are planning to revive the Soviet-era practice of compulsory treatments for alcoholics. So that they don't commit street crime. Or something. Anyway, that can't be bad. Oh and by the way, all you hear about here is the Crisis. THE CRISIS. But I love Russian attitutude towards it. It's just very "We're fucked. Again. Oh well. We'll deal. We've been fucked before. Let's get ready for those food rationings." Seriously.

--Communists Use Anniversary To Tell Capitalist World: Told You So!
This might be the best headline and story I've seen so far here. Apparently, tens of thousands of still existing commies here took to the streets on Friday to celebrate the anniversary of the revolution, and were yelling things such as "Capitalists! We recommend you start reading Marx's 'Das Kapital'" Good solid advise from the communists everyone.

Ok, that's it for today.

DAY 5 (I think)

Ok, got a ride with my father in the morning, back to what is called civilization here (and I use this term lightly).
I desperately need to find a manicure place. I used some of my father's wife's nailpolish to do my own nails, which looked a lovely pale pink in the soft glow of their kitchen light. This morning when I got outside, it turned out that I'm wearing a color that can only be described as "Russian Slut Pastel Pink." That's it, nothing more to report this morning. It's only like 12 in the afternoon here. I still feel the need to flee from here though.
Oh, just as soon as I find a plug converter and charge up the camera, there will be pictures.

DAY 2, 3, 4

Ok, so I spent these three days at my father's house getting to know my half brother and sister. Just some basic impressions:

--Children are really cute, especially twins, right up until they have to get up to go to school and it's still dark outside. Then they are cranky little bitches and cry a lot and my god I wish I wasn't forced to share a room with my seven year old sister.

--Cats are really cute, especially fluffy white ones, right up until they spend half the night scratching at your bedroom door, then finally make it in to the room, and then proceed to first knock shit over, second, fall off of shit with really loud bangs, and lastly, eat your exposed feet. It hurt, Snezshok you bastard! We're now officially enemies.

--Spending three days with your relatives in what is the equivalent of far Rockaway, Queens, is really fucking boring. I could hear the paint peel.

--I suspect that my father and his wife think that they've found themselves a free babysitter, but they're wrong because I ain't feeding nobody, no matter how hungry those kids get.

--My father threw some insane amount of money at me the moment that I got to his house. Yes, my love can be bought. Totally. So maybe I will babysit from time to time.

--After a few conversations with my father, I began hyperventilating about being in Russia. Thank you Russian parents for knowing exactly when we're vulnerable and helping us out there.

Thank god I got out of there today, finally.