Sometimes being an auditor is kind of fun. My Russian assignment for tomorrow is to write two short stories, one about a house, the other about a family. Story #1 goes, basically: I live in Ann Arbor, on the street called “South Circle.” My house is big and red. It has a large kitchen but small bedrooms. There are 10 trees in the yard. On Sunday, I raked leaves… And so on.
For story #2, I decided enough was enough with that boring crap: These are the Smiths, John and Mary, and their children, Robert and Susan. They are Americans, living in Moscow. “John Smith” is not a true name. “John Smith” is in the Mafia! John and Mary import narcotics from Siberia and send them to America. Yesterday, Susan took a trip to Siberia with her class. “Please,” John asked his daughter, “Carry this package to my Siberian friends…”
I hope the instructor appreciates it.
alex said on October 14, 2003 at 1:05 pm
Does she put it up her hoo-hoo? Now there’s an opportunity to impress the prof with vocabulary.
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Nance said on October 14, 2003 at 1:13 pm
Hoo-hoos are not introduced until next semester, but thanks for the tip!
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ashley said on October 15, 2003 at 12:18 pm
In St. Petersburg in 1997, I was walking down Nevsky Prospekt, and stopped at the Grand Hotel Evropa. They were advertising “Bud and Burger: $8”. After a week in Eastern Europe, this actually looked good. So I order my burger, get my Bud (they can’t call it Budweiser there because the Czechs own that name), and pound it down.
I walk up to the bar for another Bud, and this gorgeous blonde is standing beside me. Being a fearless virile American heterosexual, I say to myself, what the hell. So I look at her and say “Hi, what’s your name”. She responds “Two hundred dollars”. Without missing a beat, I say “Is that your first name, your last name, or is that what your friends call you?”
She looks confused, thinks for a second, then says again “two hundred dollars”. Finally, I’m served my Bud, and I walk away.
And out in front of the hotel were all of the Russian Mafia guys wearing the uniform: khaki pants, black shirts, italian loafers with no socks, and wrap-around sunglasses. Oh, and they were all leaning on black mercedes, black BMWs, or black somethings. I didn’t follow my Rick Steves guide and try to strike up a conversation…
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