Friday, August 26, 2011

A Wedding Like 4 Funerals

You know.. When first faced with the idea, I wish I could claim that I thought it was a bad one. Quite the opposite really! I deemed it 'great'.

Ya see, a couple of weeks ago was when it all started. Well okay, it all started much before that. Let me walk you through it from the VERY start.

The Background: There lives a bitchy woman, who's one of the people who is least fond of my boyfriend. She is, possibly, even less fond of me - having previously deemed me a cheap whore for sporting a strapless sequin dress for my boyfriend's birthday night out. Needless to say, I don't give a rat's ass about her opinion of my taste, being that a) my objective was to make my boyfriends jaw drop and indulge him in some arm candy for the night, b) she has no sense of style or latest trends, clearly, this was evidently demonstrated all of the times I've seen her, the wedding being no exception (ooh yes, I just really said that!). She is now married to a man that, even at his 6'4 stature makes you deem him 'small'. Albeit, in comparison to the venomous disdain his wife rouses, he is just harmless.

Guess who was lucky enough to witness the ceremony of their matrimony? Oh yes, t'was me.

I had known about their invitation much in advance, and let me say this much - I was NOT holding my breath.

Arrives the day. My boyfriend being the smart however somewhat manipulative man that he is, bought me a -fabulous- dress, and put in a ridiculous effort and uncanny interest to make sure I find matching shoes, which I did. And so there I was, clad in about a thousand bucks if we account the jewellery and hair. I was dressed up and excited. Sat in the taxi, dangling my feet.

It didn't take long for that excitement to transition into pure, raw horror. Half an hour in the car. One hour. More time passes..

'I told you it was 45km from the outskirts of Moscow' my boyfriend shrugged. Upon seeing me shift my eyes to and from the road.

You don't understand. He didn't understand. To me, more than three-subway stations in the metro away from the circle line -is- the freaking farthest that I feel comfortable being. Here we were talking so far, that the only way to get there would be a little rusty train and then by walk.

Lip quivering, jokes aside, I kept asking if we were there yet, albeit having a good time chatting with the taxi driver about lunch time and eating habits ..he, quite amused at my lack of knowledge or understanding of our general location and destination. 'But this is still Moscow?' I asked, genuinely confused.

Soon after my 'if someone dies here, probably due to ingesting those roadside donuts, would they even get found?! How would they get found.. There aren't any roads here' comment and the driver's enthusiastic snort, as well as an eye-roll and head-shake but a muffled laugh from my boyfriend..we spotted the street that was our destination - now, I call it a street because.. I have got no freaking idea what else to call it. An unmarked uh.. path, no road. No road. Are you getting this? NO ROAD. The car struggled over the grainy terrain, and swiveled around to make its way down the uh.. 'pathway', finally, after a good shaking, we drove up to a little, rather quaint country house with a nice garden. I would have even felt guilty for all my puns and remarks.. Had it not been the shock that struck me upon looking around.

Village. Heat. No asphalt. I looked down, and could see the roadside dust instantly staining my new Carlo Pazolini shoes. Much to my horror, I pictured what would happen to my lacquered shiny heel as a stone carves a deep scratch in it.. The thought made me shudder, and so on tip toes, I waved goodbye to the nice driver and mouthed 'don't leave me here!' I could see him chuckle.. But I was NOT joking.

We were late. We are always late. I wished we could have been more late. I should have locked myself in the bathroom, I reason, whilst witnessing a characteristically Russian, traditional money hoarding game.

'Shame you didn't get to see the beginning!' someone exclaimed upon seeing my boyfriend. 'Freaking terrible.' I replied, absolutely devoid of any intonation.

The sun was scorching and I instantly felt it heating my back, arms and the top of my head. And my feet were not doing well on tippy-toes and hard to walk on surfaces. I didn't know the dress code called for hiking boots.

People had their hair up in pony tails and some were clad in jeans. Food had already been laid for people to eat after the ceremony. In the sun. Platters of mayonnaise. Cheese. Eggs.

I wanted to wail at the sight of no overhead tent over the seats. The marquee itself.. it was sad. Pastel pink and green, kinda shriveled.

I ordered myself to limit eye-rolling to one a minute, for fear of nerve damage more than anything else. Certainly, remaining polite was a factor.. But frankly, my own shirt's closest to my body.. and at that point in time, I was already freaking miserable.

Ensued the traditional money extracting game. I spaced off, contemplating more important things, such as whether my parents have been feeding the cat healthily and if I had packed enough clothes for Nika's stay with them.

Must.not.roll.eyes. I commanded myself. Fighting the urge to huff and puff, as though the urge to scratch an itching allergic reaction.

You know, I may be coming off as a bitch here, but screw this - they didn't even want me there. I was there because my boyfriend was and more likely than not, by and large - he was there because of his fantastic photography skills.

The ceremony lasted a freaking lifetime in the blistering heat and the sounds the inexperienced street musician string quartet fiddling through the music.

The bride looked stressed and angry and somewhat snappy, which mind you is more of a general state of being than a case of onset Bridezilla.

When it did end, oh lord it couldn't have come sooner - mythical creatures, romantic mush AND bad poetry. 'Why me?' I thought to myself. I have done some horrible things to good people in the past, but surely nothing quite so terrible to be made to sit through this ceremony in weather as pleasant as a dragon's breath.

'Screw my life' I thought to myself, upon the realization that once the ceremony will have ended, we shall be ushered to an egg, cheese and mayonnaise snack fourchette that have been effectively left in the summer sun for over an hour and a half. No marquee or seating, nothing other than the possible cheapest booze and, needless to say, all possible measures that WEREN'T taken for even the minimal general comfort of the guests, were indeed pissing me the hell off.

'Why are you standing on the pebbles, where you know I can't stand!' the bride-turned-wife barked at her newly acquired husband. 'Not that standing on these wooden planks is anymore bloody comfortable' I wanted to bark at her, but, for being of better judgement, refrained.

Standing there, sipping on lukewarm fizzy cheap white wine that by some freak accident carried the label 'champagne'. The irony of it all was that the SHAMpizzle was called 'Hope'.

Soon, the heat and dehydration got too much. I was seeing black dots and white patches. My boyfriend brought over a white plastic garden chair for me to sit on. I was fixing my shoe strap, and checking my heels for any visible damage when my nail snapped and broke.

'F*ck all this' I cursed. And continued for a sufficiently long time. My boyfriend urged me to calm down and carried the chair over into the shade - soon enough plenty of people joined, forming their own seating arrangement. People were asking for water and the heat was getting worse.

Can you picture my pure damn joy, upon finding out that to get to the restaurant, back at the very outskirts of southern Moscow, where the ..if one dare call it.. a sort of reception would be held. We will be getting there in a rented mini-van, all dozen or so of us, no air-conditioning.

On the bright side, the groom's family were certainly quite fun!

I don't particularly recall getting to the reception, I was literally so bored, I slept through the whole ride there.

At the reception, we were greeted by enthusiastic staff, substandard food and more cheap booze. Some cliche games followed - name this and name that, the pseudo-bilingual organizer painfully struggled to utter anything grammatically acceptable. And then, when acing the questions, and even winning could no longer hold my attention - I trailed off outside, at first making an effort to make an appearance every half an hour.. And then opting to camp out outside altogether. Ensued cheap booze consumption. Cheap booze and an empty stomach do horrors to anybody's composition and soon after, I was in tears due to a) hurt feelings emerge at the possible worst of times, b) bitches gossip. The gossiping I overheard put the lid on the ridiculous night. I was crying. Then I was crying even more because my boyfriend was angry at me (I wasn't even able to articulate what I heard through sobs), then of course, the fear of seeing an angry look on his face, much like an ex of mine - I was terrified history was about to repeat itself.

But it didn't. He took me home, and we went to bed. The next morning I was able to explain what exactly altogether ruined the already disastrous night. I got my nail fixed and we were later told that basically we left in the nick of time. People were drunk and messy. So much so, that my scene didn't stand out much. Technical difficulties basically prohibited the reception program to have karaoke or anything even remotely fun.

Now.

Having told you about that. I can finally tell you this... The following weekend we invited THEM for dinner, over to OUR place. But that my friends, is a whole other story! Stay tuned.

Let me tell you this much though, I would rather be freaking skint, at a 95% off high-end brands sale-of-a-lifetime, than be in the same room with that couple again. And I bet you can't wait to find out why!
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Friday, August 19, 2011

Sic Semper Tyrannis

'One should never side off a friend when one doesn't have any', a familiar MSN window flashed at me. He said he wanted to go back to being friends and that a day hadn't gone by without him thinking of me.

I, in return, plainly explained that last year - when he became so lifeless and dull, much as though someone else's creation of him in par of the flawed, albeit characteristically him, person that I have known ever since I was 14.

We had been the best of friends, the only two musketeers - donning matching bracelets for the last 7 years, until we both finally lost them, within a few weeks of each other. Bracelets that had been lost but thoroughly searched for and found an unbelievable amount of times, except for the very last. We live and have lived, two seas and thousands of miles apart for several years now. It's been close to or maybe over a thousand days probably, since I last saw his face.
We've been both, the best thing that ever happened and the most toxic of poison to eachother - more often than not though, we part ways, already knowing that us two witches will indeed meet again. And thus, here and now we have. A year almost to the very day since our most recent goodbye. Since then, as though in a Shakespearean play - battles have been lost and some have been won.

And indeed, much Shakespearean..
(Vincenzo Camuccini (1773-1844))
The last emotion I had towards him, that I can articulate, should most accurately be articulated as betrayal - 'Et tu, Brute?', 'And you, Brutus?' was the phrase Caesar uttered whilst dying, upon the recognition of his best friend amongst his assassins.

By that time, countless people had already turned away from me, each one, for one reason or another. Some couldn't forgive the hurt I once          caused, others wanted to hurt me, lest I hurt them first. A select few could not come to terms with the birth of my daughter and my dedication to motherhood. There were some that no longer thought I was beautiful, neither physically, nor did I remain beautiful to them as a person. My most close friend however, I had never expected to be left absolutely alone in dark by him. Three times.

Regardless.

He's returned. My tagline: Now what?
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Wednesday, August 10, 2011

A Year Since..

I had never done what I did a year ago - never, not once was I ever able to accept a person for exactly who they are and how they are in the moment of our acquaintance. Also, I had never met someone really worth such an investment of absolute raw chance-taking, scorching emotions and pure fear.

After the first e-mail, then text message ..finally meeting, I was petrified of losing this 'seemingly inappropriately perfect for me' man.

And so I held on for dear life, so tight that at times I feared it would be just that, which would make him slip through - after all, I had always thought that the saying 'if you love someone, just let them go.. If they come back, then you'll know' was right. I would do no such thing this particular time though, and this became one of the three most important decisions I've ever made that have affected the course my life tremendously.

A part of me wanted to do just that, ever so badly - to let go, because patience had always been a virtue that I've not been blessed with, selfishness in par.. the euphoria brought on by something as simple as conversation and his company, as well as the rare brush of his touch on my hand - my life quickly grew to be about him. Nobody else mattered, and I had no reason to care.

Albeit there is more: the hurt inflicted by circumstances was immense - each weekend, I made the decision not to love him anymore.. And each Monday, I realized I loved him more than I did the previous Friday. I cried so much and so often.

What do you do, when there's nobody and nothing you want more, but none of it is within vicinity of reach? You persevere. This was not down to being strong - I wasn't, in fact, this was making me more weak and vulnerable than ever, but it didn't seem to matter at the time.

I knew from the very moment we had our first conversation, that in about a year, I would either a) emerge from this so hurt, I would never be the same again .. Or b) emerge one year past, being more beautiful - as a woman, a mother to Nika and more so, more beautiful and confident than ever as myself.

And so, here I am - having now seen a year go by. No, I'm not the same, some may argue that I have never been more different, which is debatable but most likely completely true. The things I thought I feared, suddenly don't mean a thing any longer. The things I thought I wanted, I realized in reality, are more trivial than actual - I want other things now. I need different things now, and a lot of the things I need.. I already seem to have.

Two weeks ago, at a pediatric appointment in the waiting room, my daughter was playing with all the other children. 'Your daddy is on the phone!' the little boy exclaimed holding out a toy phone. 'No he's not!', contradicted Nika.. 'this is my daddy, right here' she continued, whilst pointing her chubby little manicured finger at my boyfriend. I had to think about very happy things in order not to get all soppy and teary right there.

And thus, I have summed up what's happened this past year.. It has all been worth it and if I were to be made go back a year, I would do it all again in the exact same way - this is the first time in my life that I am able to say that I would indeed, change nothing

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Wednesday, August 3, 2011

www.Eapteka.ru

Отзывы о магазине еАПТЕКА



*****  плохой магазин
Tasha  
вчера удалить
****
Решили обновить семейною аптечку - заказали на сумму 4800руб. Ммда.. сумма не маленькая.

Заказ сделала вечером, позвонили утром для подтверждения - звонок я пропустила, готовила ребенку молоко, было где-то 9:30 утра.

Перезвонила им сразу, в течении 5ти минут. Сказала как меня зовут, адрес. Девушка с момента ответа на звонок рычала: мол, "а что, вы номер заказа не знаете?" (нет, млин, я вот сижу его берегу, только и жду вашего звонка).

Короче говоря - доставку перенесли на время 13:00-17:00 (я просила с 9:00-13:00), я попросила предварительный звонок - объяснив что я с ребенком, а 4 часа - срок большой, можем выйти погулять. Она говорит нет уж, говорите что точно будете дома или перенесем на время когда точно будете - ну ладно, соглашаюсь я, или гуляйте около подъезда - позже предлагает она, мол если что, курьер Вас немного подождет. (разве не проще ли просто действительно позвонить непосредственно перед доставкой..)

Ладно, не имеет смысла грубить и спорить в ответ, решаю я.


Привозит доставку курьер в 1:30 дня - какая тяжелая сумка блин, первым делом жалуется он. Я с ребенком на руках, ну да - обновить аптечку решили, как то растерянно зачем то принялась объяснять я.


"Да тут, извините за выражение, обожраться можно!" выразился он, при моей 3х летней дочке, сидящей у меня на руках. Отправила ребенка подальше, не дай бог решиться он выразиться еще раз и похлеще, заплатила ему. 


Ужас.

Ну что.. аптека хорошая, ассортимент и цены очень устраивают..хоть руки не дошли распаковать все это дело, вроде бы все на месте.
 

А вот обслуживание так портит все! Жаль