Про джинсу, колготки и фарцовщиков
Адын мой дьень вырвал мне глаз фоткой очаровательной женской ножки в джинсе, туфле на высоком каблуке, и...колготке. Я обожаю колготки. Они - мое спасение, так как нет таких туфель, которые бы не натерали мне ноги со зверской жестокостью. Но увы и ах, в Калифорнии просто не принято носить чулки телесного цвета. Ни с юбкой, ни под брюки. Иначе тебе будут задавать дурацкие вопросы и намекать на отсталость вкуса и тому подобные неприятности. Так что я страдаю. Плачу. Хромаю. Но от колготок себя отучила.
И тут такое. Я прямо обзавидовалась вся. На этой почве вспомнился мне список, который мы с сестрой составили по молодости лет. Типа совковая аттрибутика. Он был запостан сто лет назад на myspace, но я, в порыве ностальгии, его откопала. Вот он, перл моей двадцатилетней мудрости.
You know you’re Russian when:
You think bread is a necessary component of every meal, including KFC chicken and plov.
You wear panty hose under your jeans.
You think that the waist of your pants is supposed to align with you actual waist.
By 21 you’ve quit smoking, binge drinking, and promiscuous fucking.
You think that nothing is wrong with walking a couple of blocks in Tarzana to get to your grocery store on Saturday morning. In fact, you think you’ll even stop by Hollywood video to rent a few tapes for the weekend.
Your mother thinks you’re a failure because you’re 21 and not married.
Your father thinks it’s a woman’s god given obligation to wash dishes by hand.
Your opinion of your friend’s girlfriend is actually formed by this babushka you’ve met while waiting for three hours in the doctor’s office.
Your puberty years were made this much more miserable by your mom’s firm beliefs that you’re not supposed to shave your legs, die your hair, or pluck your eyebrows until you’re…older…
If you don’t become a lawyer, a doctor, or a rocket scientist, your parents will disown you for they will have nothing to brag about to their friends.
You date “Americans” for fun, but will never actually think of marrying them. You reserve that special privilege for a nice Russian girl/boy.
You were depressed for two months when you found out you couldn’t wear your favorite suit every day.
You have an unhealthy affinity for Internet searches of former classmates, and think things were better in the “old country”.
In fact, your dearest dream is to go back one day to show your friends how cool you’ve become.
Your parents suggest that you don’t bring your new boyfriend over for the family gathering because the rest of the family might think you’ve become promiscuous.
You’re not allowed to move out on your own because, heaven forbid, if you need to hammer a nail into a wall or screw in a light bulb, there isn’t going to be a man around to help you.
You continue going to the same hairdresser because she’s your mom’s friend, even though she really sucks.
И тут такое. Я прямо обзавидовалась вся. На этой почве вспомнился мне список, который мы с сестрой составили по молодости лет. Типа совковая аттрибутика. Он был запостан сто лет назад на myspace, но я, в порыве ностальгии, его откопала. Вот он, перл моей двадцатилетней мудрости.
You know you’re Russian when:
You think bread is a necessary component of every meal, including KFC chicken and plov.
You wear panty hose under your jeans.
You think that the waist of your pants is supposed to align with you actual waist.
By 21 you’ve quit smoking, binge drinking, and promiscuous fucking.
You think that nothing is wrong with walking a couple of blocks in Tarzana to get to your grocery store on Saturday morning. In fact, you think you’ll even stop by Hollywood video to rent a few tapes for the weekend.
Your mother thinks you’re a failure because you’re 21 and not married.
Your father thinks it’s a woman’s god given obligation to wash dishes by hand.
Your opinion of your friend’s girlfriend is actually formed by this babushka you’ve met while waiting for three hours in the doctor’s office.
Your puberty years were made this much more miserable by your mom’s firm beliefs that you’re not supposed to shave your legs, die your hair, or pluck your eyebrows until you’re…older…
If you don’t become a lawyer, a doctor, or a rocket scientist, your parents will disown you for they will have nothing to brag about to their friends.
You date “Americans” for fun, but will never actually think of marrying them. You reserve that special privilege for a nice Russian girl/boy.
You were depressed for two months when you found out you couldn’t wear your favorite suit every day.
You have an unhealthy affinity for Internet searches of former classmates, and think things were better in the “old country”.
In fact, your dearest dream is to go back one day to show your friends how cool you’ve become.
Your parents suggest that you don’t bring your new boyfriend over for the family gathering because the rest of the family might think you’ve become promiscuous.
You’re not allowed to move out on your own because, heaven forbid, if you need to hammer a nail into a wall or screw in a light bulb, there isn’t going to be a man around to help you.
You continue going to the same hairdresser because she’s your mom’s friend, even though she really sucks.