THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Well, it turns out that I don't have to help seven year olds plaster-of-paris pencil holders.
I get to help seven year olds who don't speak English try and finger paint traditional Russian fok designs, under the guidance of some lady who I can barely understand.
It's just....great.
Just fantastic.
There are three kids- Regina, Roman, and Victoria. They were adopted from Russian orphanages by stupid white rich people who don't speak any Russian.
Not one fucking phrase.
And one of the girls- Regina- (who could totally kick your ass and then laugh at you- in Russian), she just moved here. A week ago.
She doesn't need to be taking art classes. That's not what this poor little kid needes.
It's sick.
These parents...They make me so mad.
How could you adopt a kid and not even attempt at learning their language???
It was pretty funny though- the kids, they think we're all such idiots. Even when they try to talk to us in Russian they talk really slowly. And use big hand gestures.
I don't know- I like them. They're tough. And'll grow up to be cool people- you can just tell.
Hmmm....Other news....Other news....
Oh yeah. My mother is now uber-Atkins.
It's gross. I don't like the concept of the Atkins diet. And even if you do use it- it helps a lot if, you know, you actually have any cooking skills to speak of.
My mom just resorts to Luna Bars (ala-Davey-style), ad salads constantly.
Oh yeah, and she just gave me a whole plate of grapes.
Needless to say- I didn't point out the fact that you're not supposed to eat fruit on this diet.
I guess we're considering grapes in the meat/fat families.
Ugh, I hate celery.....
It reminds me of my grandmother's house. And not in a good way, if you catch my drift.
Anyway. So, just so you'll know, I'm going to be constantly hungry up until the end of August.
That's when I go to camp and can gorge on as many diet cokes and strawberry shortcake bars as I fucking want to.
Yeah, and doesn't that sound just appetizing???
If I do not get to the record store soon...Matricide....Patricide....Homocide....Suicide......
I don't know. I'll pick one.
Celery-and-Grape-Steaks,
Pinki.