I love russian gals. The way they talk. Their utter incomprehension of the english language. Makes for a lot of fun.
So, here I am. Wandering around in Potomac Mills, looking for the head. Like a moron, I had already walked past it. I stopped at one of those shove stuff in your face center of the aisle pain in the ass I already have a cell phone and don't need another one, no, I am a man and I do not wear perfune storefront places, and little Miss Vodka looks at me with those doe eyes, and asks in something closer to english than the dothead at my local 7-11, but way past any cab driver, 'can I help you?'
Sure. Trying to find the restroom, I answer. She says, 'for 5 dollars, I will tell you where it is.'. I reply, 'for 5 dollars, I'll pee right on the floor in front of your (see above) storefront.'
I guess that did not register in her soon to be a stripper (GD Anthony and his russian stipper impression...'you want me to make the sexy for you?') mind, as she pointed out the bathrooms, without any cash being exchanged. She'll get to the cash being exchanged part of her life, sooner, than later.
Off I go. Leaving Oxsana Porsche in the dust.
How did I get myself in this perdicament in the first place? Oh, I promised the MIL that anytime she wanted to go to Potomac Mills, I'd take her (and the XYL). D-Day came, and there we went.
I managed to sneak in a trip to HRO to pick up something I needed for the new radio I had just bought at Dayton, so, at that point my day was done in my point of view.
The GAWDS smiled on me, for a change, because as I walked in I ran across a place that rented shopping carts. I weighed the options. Carry dozens of bags, till my hands went numb (not even counting my backpack) or look like a tourist, pushing this dumbass cart. I happily gripped my diet Dew in my non-numb hand, as I pushed the cart from point A to Point B, then back to Point A, then on to Point C....
I long had lost the use of my freshly adjusted back, with the awful hotel bed, so if I stopped moving, My back tightened up so much, that it took a wing and a prayer, for me to even stand up.
From one end, to the other, and then back again, we trundled thru the crowds of angry people. Angry? Seemed to me that the majority of folks who walked by me speaking in their jibberish looked and sounded angry. Like, really angry. Unless we start talking like professional wresslers (lets see if anyone gets that goof), I don't get it...
I now know why the heathens won the elections this fall. Every Mr. and Mrs. I Hate America, came by me with one or two baby carriages, or multiple kids. All jabbering in something other than english. From the shirts and hats I saw, Jesus has been replaced by the new (and improved) Messiah Obama.
And, IMHO, I saw the dumbest thing - at least in my way of thinking - I had seen in quite sometime. Let me, prep this by saying, if I move to Mexico, I will learn spanish. France? I'll learn french. Compton? Ebonics.
There at the head of the food court was a Rosetta Stone storefront. Selling kits to learn every imaginable language..but...need I finish the sentence?
I quietly grinded my teeth and I walked away.
I figure it'll be in my lifetime. Certainly, in the next, that the heathens offically take America over. For F's sake, we're encouraging it. Oh, we;ll learn some gibberish language of yours. Don't even think of learning the language of the country you Hate..
So, I'll never be Mr. Diversity. Nor will I be Mr. Multi-cultural. I will not even be I speak something other than english guy. I do need to be Mr get on Wikipedia to see if he can figure out the scarves over the head (around the neck. Covering the head, but not the face. Eyes only thing visable) thing, or the red dot in the middle of the forehead guy.
That has be completely stumped...
I hope that Oxsana Porsche takes to her stripper lessons. She looks to have potential..