Minime and the Other One (PICS)

So I spent another wonderful day at my father's place with the half siblings. My father was conspicuously absent for most of the visit. He had to "work". I get the feeling that he spends much more time doing that, than actually spending time with his family. He doesn't seem to understand that this is not the way a good father behaves, but whatever, if he wants to crap out his second chance at fatherhood, it's not for me to judge. (Although, it is a little bit). So anywho, here are pictures of the kids that I took, and three that I pilfered from my father's computer while I was there. It's them on September first of this year. Their very first day of 1st grade.

So here's little Masha looking really happy to be in school:



Here's her being a good student and paying stern attention to what the teacher is saying. Outside of the window...:


Haha, look at my hair. It's ridiculous.

Here's Pasha. I have strong suspicions about his being actually related to us. Look at this kid! He's freaking blond with green eyes. His name should be Ivan for god's sakes. And these two are supposedly fraternal twins. I smell a rat:



Ok, the rest of the pictures were shot by me yesterday. Now in my defense, I had tonsillitis, and the camera barely worked, and 7 year-olds are really shitty models. They just won't stand still.

This is Minime with her mum Natasha. Natasha was checking their homework. Masha doesn't like the level of mistrust in the family. Natasha doesn't like the fact that Minime lied about having all of her homework done:



Pasha had all his homework done, so he's just sort of chillin:



By the way, Pasha used to want to marry Masha. His parents had to explain to him that he can't marry his twin because they'll have two-headed babies. Now he's proclaimed his undying love for me and plans on marrying me as soon as possible. When reminded of the two-headed baby consequence, Pasha's incredulous response was "But we've got different mothers!" Pasha needs a solid lesson in genetics and how incest plays into that whole mess.

This is a picture of the kitchen/child chaos in that apartment:



Ok, this is a side by side comparison of me at 7 and Minime. I just want everyone to see why I keep referring to her as that:



The eyes are the only difference really.

And last, but by far not least, is the hated Sneszhok (who's name apparently changes on a weekly basis. Now her name is Katya):




I tried to barricade the door when I slept over Friday night, but this bastard not only got the door handle open, but also squeezed through the stuffed animal barricade and proceeded to try to claw through my socks while I was sleeping. I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think I kicked it at some point. Sneszhok avoided me the next day and kept throwing me dirty looks. Like the one captured in the above photo.

That's it for today. I think everyone is already in the know about the tonsillitis, so I won't complain about it here.

What is With the Weather Here???

First the streets are frozen solid, so that even if you're wearing boots manufactured specifically for the purpose of crossing the Alps (and I am), you still have to waddle around like a goddamn penguin so as not to fall down. Then it goes up 1 degree, and you're mired in ice puddles. I swear, there are like fjords and shit just floating around the city streets. I honestly don't know how to dress for this weather...
I'm going into full-on arctic exploration-wear mode.

Happy Thansgiving Everybody!
(I won't be eating turkey tonight...)

Insane day at Work

Today, a writer came to the office. This guy's book came out last week. Jesus Christ, starting at 2 p.m., there was vodka for everyone. Because boss lady has left for the Moscow non-fiction book fair, this place has completely disintegrated into a house of bedlam and chaos. It's like Soddom and Ghemorrah over here. So the entire staff (with the exception of the accountant, who is a very handsome clean cut young man and doesn't seem to enjoy hanging out with the literary types) has been hanging out in the kitchen getting soused. The head editor is so drunk right now that he can't stand or talk really. He just keeps mumbling shit, and I've got the feeling that any minute now he's going to throw up all the smoked salmon and salami sandwiches that were laid out on the table at the beginning of the festivities.

Oh and as if that's not enough, there are people hanging out in the kitchen that don't even work here. Random writers came by to congradulate the aforementioned guy, and stuck around to get in on the vodka action. It's been going on like this for 4 hours already. It's time to go home, and they're still sitting there. A few general rules were thrown out the window. Like the no smoking in the actual office rules. I don't mind this one, but it just feels surreal. Like I've stepped back into the 60's, when smoking was allowed everywhere. Also, at first some people said no to the vodka because they were driving. The last guy to walk in, when questioned as to whether he was driving or not, replied "so what?" and promptly sat down to throw back a few. I myself got literally trapped at the table for about an hour by a very insistent young editor. He wouldn't let me out. I had to wait until he went to the bathroom to make my escape.

A few general observations:

--Russian old people have really fucked up teeth and don't seem to know about dentures. (Note to self: brush teeth more often, and maybe start flossing or something)

--Whenever a person in this country is really interested in whether someone is a jew or not, chances are that they are either a jew, or a closeted (or not so closeted) antisemite. There's just no other reason for this interest to exist. And I don't remember anyone in the states ever wanting to know whether someone I brought to their house was a jew or not. Therefore, publisher Kuritzin is an antisemite (cause he sure as hell ain't a jew)

--Deodorant is purely optional here. I don't think that this is news to anyone, but what might be news is that it's a bit difficult to locate in the drugstores. I.e. I tried to buy some yesterday, and after visiting 3 different stores, was only able to find said product for men. Perhaps they believe that ladies naturally smell pretty.

That's all for today.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYBODY!!!

Yesterday was Gray, Today is Gray, and Tomorrow Will Also be Gray

But that's alright. I'm getting more into the swing of things here. I still don't understand exactly what it is that my job entails. I spend most of the day at work just sort of staring at my computer screen and taking cigarette/tea breaks once an hour. From what I can tell, my job will require me to show up at uber-boss's house next week in order to translate between him and a French writer, while they're having breakfast. Unexpected. Also, there's the 10 pages of translation that I'll be doing in some vague future, and the attempts to make contact with American publishing companies. Everyone at work is preparing for a book fair in Moscow (that I won't be going to this time, but will be going to next time). And no one seems to give a crap about what Polena is doing. Ah, just like being home at my old job.

I went to do my laundry yesterday. I don't think that any of the German dryers in this country actually work. I paid money for them, naively trusting that they'll do their jobs and actually dry shit, but after waiting for exactly 3 hours for my clothes to dry, I ended up taking it home, quite warm, but still basically wet. I had to hang it up in the rafters to dry.

Then I went to the theater. It wasn't interesting enough to describe here. I'm going to wait until something less mundane happens to post again. The only other thing is that I've managed to get in touch with someone that I used to know many years ago and haven't had any contact with in 10 years. And lo and behold, he's here in Russia, just like me. So that was a very pleasant surprise for me. That's all that's happened in Russia in the last few days.

Day Whatever (Or I Guess it's Time to Stop Counting the Days) PICTURES

Alright, seeing as how I've been here for two weeks and one day, I think it's time to stop counting the days. What am I an alcoholic? Ok, fine, yes, I am, but only when it comes to actual alcohol. I'm not going to continue counting yet another set of days just because I really want another drink of America on a daily basis. Screw that. It's sobriety and Russia all the way from now on (or at least as long as I can keep from falling off the wagon and flying my ass back to the states.)

So, I've finally managed to take some pictures of where I am, but don't expect much. This was a first attempt, on a camera who's battery adamantly refuses to charge all the way due to crappy voltage/adapter, or it's just broken, and will only let me take two pictures before it craps out on me. So yeah, they're not very good, and they're not of very interesting things, but I promise better ones in the future. Shit, all I did today was go to work and then to a shopping mall (I didn't know they had fancy civilized ones here), and then home.

But before the pictures, I just had to share a few things that I read today in a couple of papers here:

From the St. Petersburg Times (these are direct headlines and quotes):

'Couch-Killer' Gets Off With One-Year Suspended Sentence

--A woman who killed her husband by shutting him inside a folding couch has been given a one-year suspended sentence. In response to an insulting comment from her husband... Vera Lukyanova, 55, closed the folding couch her spouse was lying on...Lukyanova was drunk at the time...Her husband was crushed as the couch folded up, and he suffocated after he was unable to free himself... Lukyanova had left her husband for three hours before checking on him and finding him dead.--

I just don't know what to say. This is as DeathPorn as it gets. Even though the article doesn't mention this, if you read between the lines, you can figure out that these are two aging, hardcore alchashi, and chances are that the husband was drunk too, and that this kind of marital "dispute" happens in Russia on a daily basis. I kind of love this place right now...

From the November Edition of Pulse Magazine:

Ok, I'm not going to provide direct quotes from this piece of trash magazine, but I would like to briefly summarize two articles that I read in it today.

Article 1:

This bitch writer mercilessly ridicules all people who read labels on the food that they are buying for shit such as MSG content and chemical content in general, and also maybe prefer the organic food to the assloads of chemical products from China that have flooded the supermarkets here. Jesus fucking Christ! She makes fun of a dude for telling his wife not to buy random canned products from China because they're actually not that big on poison control or contamination checks over there. What decade is this stupid cow living in? The United States government just set up a fucking FDA office smack dab in the middle of China just for this reason. So they can check on all this shit before it hits shelves in America. But Russians should go ahead and be encouraged to eat all the garbage out there? Whatever. This article just pissed me off to no end, because one of the reasons that I moved here was due to the fact that I thought that the food was better.

Article 2:

Ladies, if you're unhappy with your breast size, a great and healthy, and risk-free, bad-consequence free way of fixing this is through breast implants or augmentation! It's perfectly safe, you can't see the scars at all, they feel totally real, and best of all you'll feel much better about yourself. And nothing remotely bad can occur as a result!

THIS WAS NOT WRITTEN BY A PLASTIC SURGEON, AND IS NOT ADVERTISEMENT. This is a real article, written by a woman. What in the name of... Seriously??!!!

Yes. The only explanation that I could come up with at first was that she was bribed. But then, on further reflection, and in conjunction with the first article mentioned, I figured something out. They've got 1975 happening here as far as consumerism is concerned. They haven't figured out that chemical food is bad for you even though it tastes good, and that breast implants, pretty as they might look on TV and in Porno can totally fuck you up and shouldn't be encouraged under any circumstances (with the exception of reconstruction). Wasn't it just like this in the U.S. in the 70's?

Ok, now that I'm done ranting, on to the peaceful pictures of my day:

Yay for me!

This is the street where I work. Looks a bit gray and gloomy, no?

And this is the window in my office, and what can be seen through it:

What I see on my way home from work every day, right near where I live. It's beautiful:

Me, sitting in the hall, smoking in the dark. Not a pretty picture:

Joke Job and Pedestrian Bastards. And Oh My God the Cars...

People, my job is a joke. Would you like to know what I've been doing here for the past two days? I've been reading a book. At work. Just sitting here, reading a book. That's my job right now. I'm getting paid to do this. Because it's a publishing house. Holy shit I've been in the wrong profession this whole time!

Granted the book is tedious at times, but still. I like reading. And I get to use all them skills I learned in college while studying English Lit. Finally! Still, I just can't believe that they're going to give me money in a week. For this.
Also, I've been helping the corrector with some of the idiotic translation mistakes that she's been finding in some of the texts that she's correcting. That's kind of fun actually. I'm the only person here that's a "natural language carrier." That's one of my titles here at work. Tee-hee-hee.

But generally, since I'm being paid under the table (a salary that I'm pretty sure is higher than my position warrants), and straight out of uber-boss's pocket, I think that what I've actually got here is a mafia no-show job. Like when mafia captains show up to the docks and sit on their ass all day for tax purposes. It's like that, except instead of being in the mafia, I happen to be uber-boss's childhood friend's daughter, and he has to justify giving me fifteen hundred bucks a month.

There's not much else to report, other than the fact that everyone here is still taking one-hour long tea brakes several times a day and that yesterday was super pretty. It was just like being inside of a snow globe.

Also, this morning I was listening to "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns & Roses on my way to work, and found it fully appropriate as a soundtrack. Because like Indian people in Jackson Heights, Russian pedestrians think that each one of them is the only one the street, and conduct themselves accordingly. However, unlike peaceful Indian people, who just sort of ramble along, stop short, and generally move slower than fuck, Russian pedestrians take an entirely aggressive stance. They seem to be fully of the opinion that two things CAN exist in the same space at the same time, and try to prove this constantly by attempting to walk straight through each other (and poor little me). Seriously, if you think that NYC is bad as far as pedestrian speed and traffic go, try walking through a sea of angry, frozen Russian people when it's 15 degrees out. They don't fuck around. They're moving in one direction and you're going with them whether you want to or not.

Don't even get me started on the drivers. These assholes like to play chicken with pedestrians while they are crossing the street. And they always win, one way or the other. And by that, I mean, either the pedestrian manages to scurry the fuck out of the way in time, or the pedestrian gets a brand new car driven up his ass. They never, ever slow down. Instead, when they see a "walker", they speed up. I swear, it's as if they've got that point game going in their head, only serious. Like "4 points for the slow-moving babushka with the cart, 6 points for the pimply punk in the leather jacket, 10 points for the yuppie with the designer coat." This place is super fun!

Day 14 (Work and other Observations)

A few observations about my current surroundings:

--Finally saw the legendary and ever-elusive St. Petersburg sun today. It was yellow and warm and circular, just like I've always pictured it. I felt elated and happy for a moment, but then it disappeared behind and ugly brown building. I don't know when we'll be reunited again, or why it's avoiding me. Come back, sun!

--Ksusha the firm receptionist has been celebrating her 24th birthday for two solid days now. This consists of her sitting in the kitchen (instead of reception) the whole day with a bottle of vodka and two bottles of wine and a half-eaten Napolean cake. Other staff members (including the boss lady) join her periodically and stay in the kitchen for hours. The unforseen result of this of course is that no one is opening the door when someone rings our bell. Or answering the phones...
Also, everyone seems a bit not sober.
Non of the visitors have been able to get in because you can't hear the doorbell from the kitchen. Our own driver had to wait for 2 hours outside in order to gain entry.
Boss lady doesn't seem to mind.

--Everyone here is working on Russian-people-time. That means that even though the work day starts at 10 and ends at 6, most people come rambling into the office around 11 (holding their heads tightly and mumbling about bereborshil, i.e. overdid it), and end up walking out of here around 3 when they, as I heard one such employee say, "finally give up on having a sense of right and wrong". Apparently Ksusha the receptionist has been keeping careful track of these comings and goings, but the boss lady only jokingly suggested that employees start coming in on time. She doesn't seem to be serious, and no one here is taking her suggestions to heart.

--The guy that's been training me for two days now, proclaimed today that there's not much for me to do and I should just go home and read one of the books that I've been assigned to translate pieces of. It was 2 p.m. when this ocurred. I had to explain to him that I don't feel right collecting a salary while sitting at home and reading a book. (I do however feel perfectly fine collecting a salary while sitting at work and working on my own blog though.) I'm going to work with an american work-standard for at least another week...