Preparations, part три

So, I received a lovely luggage set for my trip as my Christmas gift. Now, in the coming weeks, I plan on paying Air Berlin for the extra luggage, as there is no way in hell I can survive 5 months with only 50 pounds of clothing.

I am trying very hard to get used cold before I leave. Work today was in the 60's, with 23 mph wind. On the water. Oh, yeah. This Florida girl is slowly becoming a hardass.

Perhaps the most exciting news is that I ordered a wonderful muskrat fur coat. Hopefully this will keep me warm. The final purchases (socks, a few more thermals, and a nice raincoat) will hopefully be made this coming week. I also need to pick up my cashmere peacoat (for *warmer* Moscow weather) from the tailors, where it is being taken in. I bought it large so that it would be longer in the arms and sweep, and I could layer under it!

My new coat

And, at some point in the near future... I will ACTUALLY study. I PROMISE I PROMISE I PROMISE I PROMISE

Frustrated

My sincerest apologies to those of you who subscribed to (or those of you who aren't real friends and don't subscribe to but casually read *evil glare*) my blog expecting amusing tales of my misadventures in Russia. Until I leave in February, it will largely be an outlet for my bitching about life, my second favorite pastime (next to eating. maybe napping, but I don't think that is a legitimate pastime, so its not on the count). Don't get too disheartened, as it will still be amusing, if not in the sophisticated witty way I aspire for it to be, then at least in the schadenfreude sort. Eh, its my damn blog, I'll write what I want.

I ask this completely rhetorical question:

On what planet is it alright to confess you undying love for a girl who left you, several years ago, after you had acted like a complete jerk to her for the year previous (following two rather content years of togetherness) via a text message sent at 5am? Especially after that girl had been ever-so-politely ignoring the innuendo-filled 3am text messages you had been sending the week prior?

Incidents like this are why, at age nineteen, I have forsaken exclusive relationships until such a time as I am ready to consider matrimony. That way, I can't look back and think, "Why did I ever date such a bonehead?

Oh, yeah. Free food.

Sorry to break your hearts boys, but the only reason we pretend to be interested in you is the food you provide us. Really good acting on our part also often leads to shinier gifts. In that respect, girls are like raccoons. Or piranha. Way to a girl's heart? Pasta and Yurman.

Additionally, failure to engage in serious relationships will also prevent this scenario from popping up. I am in the habit of being a really good girlfriend... I fry things, I don't really care if men go to strip clubs, I'm not a feminist, and I mix a stiff drink. It stands to reason that men tend to want me back after I leave them. But, generally, I left them for a reason, and it serves only to annoy me. Cutting the boyfriend problem out of my life also frees up the ex-boyfriend problem.

*Disclaimer* Some of this post are in jest. Others are written in frustration. Try not to ever take me too seriously. For example, many women prefer Tiffany to Yurman, and others are more Godiva girls or are on low-carb diets.

Almost not dead...

For those of you waiting with baited breath for news of whether or not this single girl will even survive long enough to die in Moscow... well, I'm not dead. Yet. I had an adventure at the pharmacy yesterday, when the pharmacist put in two of my prescriptions correctly, and one under "Cheryl," who, by the way, has a birthday completely different than mine. So I had to fight for an hour to get my antibiotics. Which won't help me get better; they just prevent the infection from spreading to my lungs.

The good news is, I am currently fever-free, and can almost swallow solid food. If soup is a solid food. I'm just pissed that, after all this starvation and feverishness, I've not lost more weight. Yes, ok, I'm a little vain. So shoot me.

Dying

I am dying. Flu, or some sort of flesh-eating virus. Later on today, I'll be heading to the doctor's... or the cemetery...

Preparations, Part два

So, I am far too sick to do anything more productive that stare blankly at a tv screen. Studying would be too labor-intensive. Well, thats my story, and I plan on sticking to it.

This post will chronicle how f*ing hard it is to even get into Russia. I have been abroad a few times before, and usually I just buy the cheapest plane ticket I can find and call them a few days before my scheduled departure to choose a vegetarian meal. Not that I'm a vegetarian; I'm just a little freaked out at the prospect of eating meat at 40,000 feet. Meat that comes from a questionable source, and has been sitting in an airline cooler for hours. I don't even eat meat from the Stetson dining hall. Plus, Leslie Nielson isn't around to save us any more.

Russia is a mite different from the rest of the world. For example...

To get into America:
a. Have a valid passport
b. Buy a plane ticket
c. Don't be a terrorist.

To get into Russia:
a. Have a valid passport
b. Get an HIV test done within 90 days of your scheduled departure.
c. Buy a plane ticket (I'm not sure about the ability of terrorists to get into Russia. As of now,
nobody has asked me if I am one) (I am not)
d. Acquire a visa, valid starting within 5 days of your departure. This is a 3-month visa
e. On the plane, fill out a migration card in duplicate. Give one to customs. Keep the other one.
f. Within 3 days of arrival, take your passport and attached visa to a passport office. They will
keep it, and give you a little reciept. Being found in Russia, as a foreigner, with no
passport/visa is grounds for immediate exhile to Siberia.
g. Within a few days, recieve your passport and new, extended, multi-entry visa back. Carry
these on you at all times, and do not lose them (see part f)
h. When its time to leave, try to find that silly little migration card you filled out on the plane 5
months ago. You need it to get out of the country.

In other, non Russia-related news, we had a frost here last night, and, to my benefit, I didn't think it was that cold. Which is probably why I'm this sick. Also, as a result, we are being held hostage by channel 10 news, who refuses to leave our farm until they get an interview we are unwilling to give. Mama just said they are going live at 6pm, with or without our permission. In condensed form, the story is "Its really cold. Our plants are dying. Expect to pay more for produce." Ugh, I think I'm going to sell some text books online so that I feel productive without actually moving.

Preparations, Part один

Well, this is my first post, and it would have come along much earlier if I hadn't accidentally set the blog to be transliterated into Hindi, and then forgotten how to change it back.

I have studied the Russian language for the past year and a half. The most frequently asked questions about me, my education, and future plans are:

q. Ohh, you are pursuing a history degree. Do you want to be a teacher?
a. No. I hate children. Almost as much as sand and people who don't use their turn signals. I want to be either Indiana Jones or a trophy wife. But if neither of those work out, I'll be happy with any desk job that allows me to dress as a 1950's housewife and host Christmas parties.

q. Why Russian?
a. *Sigh* Well, I was more or less suckered into taking Russian language my freshman year of college by one of Stetson's most amazing, and convincing professors, Dr. Denner. Plus, I grew up in South Florida, where the entire population besides me speaks Spanish, and I hate the damn language. Seriously.
After one semester of college, I realized I had nearly finished with my History major, and had to figure something else to study. So I chose Russian, largely because it means the government would give me a $4000/ yr SMART grant.

q. Only a year and a half of studying Russian language? Do you think you are ready for the total immersion of studying abroad?
a. No. No, I do not. In fact, why the hell am I doing this??? I am sooooo fucked!!!! Every day I suddenly realize more and more important words I don't know. "Fried." How do I say "fried"?!?!?! 85% of my diet is fried food!!!! "Throat lozenges"?!?!?! It's cold in Russia. Like, amazingly, frigidly cold. I'm bound to get a sore throat!!!

q. You grew up in South Florida. Are you prepared for the long, bitter winter you are bound to experience in Moscow?
a. No. No, I am not. I own a few coats, but I have an aversion to pants. In Florida, I routinely go weeks in skirts and dresses because I feel pants are too labor-intensive. I have invested in some nice snow boots, and cashmere, but my plan seems to be adorable business casual with an obnoxiously heavy wool coat over.

q. Seriously, Russia?
a. Yeah... The original plan was to go abroad next Fall, but then my amazing and convincing professor decided this Spring would be a great idea. Although, come to think of it, he also thought sending my to Kyrgyzstan was a great idea*.

q. Are you really as awesome as you let on?
a. Yes. Yes, I am.

q. What is you natural hair color?
a. Your guess is as good as mine.

*This plan was eventually vetoed when another professor decided the country was still too rife with inter-ethnic violence to send me there, and I constantly referred to it as my "suicide mission."