Pocahontas, among others

So clearly ACTR follows my blog EXTREMELY closely. I have a home! Not quite a family, my residency consists of one woman--the (in? hopefully not)famous Inna Borisovna Nikitina. Okay, so I know nothing about her other than she has no pets (NOTHING TO TACKLE?! so sad). But it beats living Gypsy-Chechen style на улицу. No idea how old she is either. Hopefully she is full of gracenosity and hipness and she'll take me to all le cool places in Moscow (of which I hear there are many). Or a бабушка who cooks lotso yummy food for me. Hold the borscht. Honestly, who looked at a beet and said "I bet that'd be delicioso if I made a soup out of it." Oh Russians, what a people.

I have a dream that Inna Borisovna is a concert violinist in the Bolshoi, and she'll teach me the ways of the Russian classical musicians. Witchcraft, probably. But I don't care because it's SHMAMAZING. And she'll be my best friend, and we'll braid each others' hair, and she'll teach me hilarious Russian nuances, and she'll be an expert on Russian-Chechen relations, and everything and everybody will live happily ever after. Dear ACTR (since clearly my warnings are being heeded), make this happen.

To prepare for Russia, I've been increasing my vocabulary by learning Disney songs in Russian. I've already mastered Cinderella (Золушка) and I'm now tackling (TACKLE) Pocahontas. So far I'm a verse and chorus into "Just around the Riverbend". I'm looking to wow Inna with my knowledge of words like "stream" and "riverbend". I hope she likes canoeing. 

On another note, it seems many of my "Goodbye, hope breathing goes well in Russia. How 'bout them Chechens eh?" gifts are red themed. Thanks guys, really cute. Luckily, all this red got me ready for MEIN FUHRER GLENN BECK AND SEXY "GRIZZLY MAMA" SARAH'S Restoring Honor rally! Hey Sarah, soon I'll be able to see Russia from my house too. While I'm on the subject of Forrest Gump, I love the part where Jenny (whose birthday is ALSO July 16th, according to her tombstone at the end. Spooky!) and Forrest run across the water and they embrace. Except that image is now ruined forever by the Teabaggers. Though if we replace Forrest Gump with Glenn Beck, and Jenny with Sexy Sarah, that would be a symbol of today's rally. Except they'd be hugging Jesus. It was ridiculous.
 
So here's why teapartiers annoy me:
Us (a lovely group of reasonable college students having a logical and esoteric conversation): There were definitely more people at the inauguration. This was lame, and not that cool/hilarious.
Teabag Couple: That's before they knew better. (Let me pause this story to say MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. Honestly, what did they think they'd accomplish by engaging with us?)
Us: *Some comment that is SO profound, I can't even recall it. Probably along the lines of 'nuhuh'*
Them: Then you're in the wrong place (FALSE we were a block from Ivory. You're on OUR TURF. Fools).
Us: Actually, we're completely in the right place. DC voted outstandingly solidly for Obama.
Them: *Some comment along the lines of 'nuhuh'*

Hah! We win. The metro was an equally entertaining experience. I don't think my "Communism, WOOT!" Or "I love paying taxes" comments were appreciated. Afterward, we schlepped up to Columbia Heights for COLUMBIA HEIGHTS DAY! Or the DC equivalent of a "state fair". I met Aladdin, the camel, and a shmadorable minipony named "DOHHHHHTACKLECUTELOVE" (at least that's how I addressed him). And then we lunched at Alero. I have finally found delicious Mexican food in DC! While the paintings on the wall (naked David Beckham, Buff Harry Potter, and Hilary Clinton portrayed as God) were a little disconcerting, the food was delicious and the service incredible. I felt that eating Mexican food was the most American thing I could do before leaving. I am content.

Бездомная...как всегда Or "Beans, Bindles, and Brilliance"

I am well on my way to achieving my dream of becoming a native Kyrgyz. I am currently a nomadic wanderer with only a suitcase to my name. "Why Jenny, WHY?", you ask, gripping the edge of your seat with whitening knuckles. Do not fret, dear readers (of which I have none). I am off to Russia in a weeks time and GW doesn't think it should give me housing. So I'm taking it anyways, the robber barons. Living in South Hall is loverly, and I'm sad to be leaving. There's nothing better than curling up in a room far from people. Not unlike a small yurt.

In other news, I'm leaving Clements International, my summer job, at the end of the week. This means I can no longer say I sell kidnapping insurance and pretend to set up stings to catch the dirty rotten Somalians. Lies. It means I can no longer get paid to hang out on Facebook and Twitter and stuff letters in envelopes. That's esoteric stuff, that is.

Speaking of Good Will Hunting, what a great movie. "Without further ado, come forward silent rogue and receive thy prize." Brilliant. Why don't GW professors talk like that? Right. Because they, like their students, are bitter that they didn't get into Georgetown and have subsequently given up on life altogether. And yes, Matt Damon, I will go eat a bunch of caramels with you.

Back to my bindle/hobo situation. Not only am I an American vagrant, but I am also homeless abroad. Thanks to the Infernal Dance of the Fire Gods in Russia (or so my theory goes), Muscovites stopped worrying about poor li'l ol' me and my love of apostrophes. They had "more important" things to worry about like "their lives" and "breathing". Lazies. And knowing my luck, once the russkies do get around to housing me, I'll end up living with a family in which the father makes Stalin look like a darling бабушка, the mother is an anorexic bitty who calls me fat, and a brood of 12 hooligans circa age 2-6.

Dear ACTR, here is my awful and deadly threat. I won't make another post until you give me housing. Tear Down This Wall!