hhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFNmHUscRPg <--- IM SURE THAT GUY'S CHERNOBYL. now you know what i have to put up with.

i advise that you follow the link in the title... really helps get you into the mood whilst reading this, and i personally like to listen to eurovision-style music whilst writing this blog. Christ that was a gay thing to say.

anyway, here comes instalment number 2 of the blog for tonight. ARE YOU READY?! (if that was a 'no', then piss off and read some other blog. I dont need people like you soiling the fun for everyone. tsssk.)

so i left off just as she's come home, really exited, ready for her little leavers concert with the other army, i mean 'group', of russians.

i was instructed by the parental hierarchy in my house, that i had to sort out her hair, paint her nails and do her make up (yeah that's right, this 7 year old actually wears makeup. nice to see she's trying to break the eastern european stereotype right there) you would've thought i was this Soviets bitch.

so i tarted her up, as requested... she would've looked very at home somewhere down park road P'town. eeeek! Pink eyeshadow... 'nuff said.

Then, after a while of dolling her up (oh god, i can't believe i did that... it's a travesty for tomorrows youth.) we were ready to go. We got to the school where the concert was going to be held... it was swarming with russians dressed up as fairies. I thought that my parents had maybe slipped me LSD in my tea.. apparently not.

we exchanged obligitary chit chat with other host families BLAH BLAH "how is your russian?" BLAH BLAH "still wetting the bed?" BLAH BLAH "ooooh he bit you?!" BLAH BLAH.

then the play started. we watched in anticipation with the hope that Galia had been given a decent part... i feel oddly competetive about her. SCREW ALL YOU OTHER RUSSIANS, GALIA WILL WIN. but no. it became apparent that she hadnt actually got a part, and all she did was stand there and pull her dress down... a small part of me laughed, but the rest of me wanted to go up to that stage and put her nipples away. Its was like when you read 'heat' magazine, and you see kerry katona with her... flaps out, and you want to go and give her some modesty back, but Galia isn't fat, northern and annoying... nor does she have the physique of a highland moose.

it got to the end of the concert, and all Galia had done, was jump around to some weird Russian techno music. Not impressed.

but then they all got told to come and give us the gift they'd made for their host families... out she came to us, with a little canvas, with her hand print, and 'Galya' written under it. (so what if it looked like something you'd find in a pre-historic cave, or as if she's wiped a cows ass and smushed it on a canvas?!)

Most peoples' hearts would be warmed by this, no matter how crappy it looked... maybe they'd shed a little tear... but it suddenly hit me... I'VE BEEN SPELLING HER NAME WRONG FOR OVER A MONTH. I'll be getting radiation poisoning for this one. SORRY GALYA! <3

zinder-e-laaaa

Dedicated to two people, who always tell me that they've read my blog, as soon as i update... JAKE MOORE and EMILY KERRIGAN! You two are equally awesome human beings, and this one's for you.

Oh and before i start the real meaty bit of the blog, i'd just like to tell you something funny that happened about two minutes ago...

*Rosie, Mum and Dad are in the living room... Mother is on an ipad(classy) Dad is planning a stag weekend to Berlin, and im considering the happenings of today to put into the blog*

Dad- "where's Galia?"

Mum- "errrrm i don't know"

Dad- "i thought you'd put her to bed!"

Mum- "goodness knows where she could be"

we are a HORRIBLE EXCUSE for a host family. My dad is planning a boozy weekend, and my mum is bumming up to todays technology, whilst there is a confused child of the Soviet, sat in her room, very tired, too scared to go to sleep because we havn't given her permission. MEH WELL, she goes home in a couple of days! don't want to let her get too comfortable here.

Any way, im going to split the next bit between this blog post, and one in a bit (so that i don't daunt new readers with a really beefy bit of text... ew)

I've just come back from the leavers concert for all of the little Russians... a 'wonderful' ceremony where every year, they perform a series of english songs and sketches, then do a dance to some weird techno russian music, we clap and smile, whilst saying things such as "wow, that was truly horrific..."(thank goodness for that language barrier.)

this year, they performed Cinderella... a bad choice, seeing as when a small russian child tries to say it, it comes out as 'ZINDER-EEEE-LA'... it makes it seem more like a fairy tale about a terrorist. Any who, galia had been instructed to wear some sort of tacky pink fairy dress, and came home, after her play scheme during the day, holding said dress and looking pretty damn excited. like REALLY exited. it was as if she'd been put on speed in activity world... that dangerous mixture of hyper and high...

i think this is a good place to stop, and leave you in suspense

be prepared for instalment 2 of tonight... BAM

who needs a key?!

woaaaaah, im using a new font.

ok, i'm going to refer to the Russian as 'Galia' now, that being her name and all, due to the fact that i had a little whirlwind of hatred from some kings kid, about the blog, and about how disrespectful it is... so yeah, screw you, ima show some respect. IN SPITE OF YOU. anyway, that's enough of that.

So, Galia is angry with me right now. She keeps looking at me from across the room, her eyes are so full of hatred... i don't know if that's fueled by high levels of vodka in her blood, or the fact that she has a burning inferno of sheer detestation for me.

You might be wondering right now, "oooh, why has her hatred been boosted for you!?"

(or maybe youre thinking "hey, you know what, i don't care"... if you think this, then naaaaff off, i don't need people like you soiling my blog.)

well basically, we just had a bit of an episode... it all started out, with being at my Grandads house, i go there every tuesday, and to be honest, it is the highlight of my week! Anywho, i was giving the task of walking Galia back home, with the dog, after being at G-dads. No one was at my house, and half way into the walk home a thought struck me... "OH CRAP. I don't have a key." despite this burning fear in the back of my mind, we kept walking.

We reached the house.

i did that ridiculous thing, of checking if the front door had miraculously been left open... i gave it a massive pull

it was locked.

Galia looked at me with pure disgust... they obviously don't have doors in Russia.

we went round the side of the house, and took the scenic route of breaking into my house. I'll spare you all of the details, as i really don't want you breaking into my humble abode.

We came across the cat flap... i tried to get through, but i have a fat ass and i really can't be arsed (see what i did there?!)with getting stuck in the cat flap, and being a prime target for a horrible prank by a small Russian. BUT HAVE NO FEAR, KIDS, for i had a bright idea. (This is never good, as most of my ideas end in some sort of destruction, much like an episode of family guy, without the exiting characters or flashbacks)

right, here's my idea; i get Galia to crawl through the cat flap, meaning that she's in the garage, then she can go through the door that connects house to garage, then go to the back door, unlock it, and TAH DAAAAAH!

i show her what needs to be done

it took forever

she looked angry

she went through the cat flap, and came to the back door... this is the part when she's supposed to unlock it... she doesn't touch it. This begins to panic me a little

i start getting premonitions of what horrible occurances may happen, should she be left in the house alone... oh god no.

i do some patronising little hand signals, and mouth the words "dooooor, oooopen"... trying to mouth words in a russian accent is somewhat difficult

it wasn't working

i mouthed "calll ceciliaaaa" (if you dont get this bit, read the previous blog post please)

she understood straight away. BAM, she flicked the handle down and the door swung open...

then it hit me... how did she just flick the handle, if the door was locked? has she got magical powers?!

oh man... i didn't check if the back door had been left open

my life is shameful

next time, i shall take my god damned key.

Russia 3, England 0.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP CRYING!

im going to describe to you, what i can hear right now...

i can hear a screaming, crying, sobbing russian child, splashing in the bath, throwing barbies at the bathroom wall.

you may be wondering, "what the hell went wrong!? why isnt this funny?!". Well, today she returned from her little camping holiday with the rest of the russians (hence why there has been a lack of posts in recent days) and on her return, i was instructed by my mum, who isn't at home today, to put her in the bath.

As soon as little russian got to the house, she ran upstairs. Whilst she was in her room, i ran her bath... the sound of gushing water must've triggered something in that evil little capitalist brain of hers. she flipped.

i went through to her room, and told her in my best russian accent "B-ATH TIME"

she smiled. this is never a good sign.

i pulled her arm towards the door

she glared at me...

and said...

"NO." christ... i couldn't decide whether to be angry, or whether to be pleased that after a month in england, she's learnt a real english word!

she kept refusing, so i ran outside to my dad, and told him what was what

he told me to "deal with it". so i did.

I went back into her bedroom, where she was sat, fuming in anger, and began to pack away a load of her toys (i do admit that this was harsh, but dad said it would work...)

that was such a bad move, she went ape s**t! she started wailing and crying and screaming! i swear down that i saw actual FLAMES in her eyes! but i knew i couldn't give in to this horrible terrorist child, it was a true stand off situation, and FOR ONCE, i am bigger, so i will win.

i carried on packing her stuff away, and threw a dressing gown at her

she threw it back at me. I pulled her into the bathroom (this sounds more and more like abuse, i promise it wasn't) she still refused. She grabbed a barbie off of the bathroom side, and threw it at me... i never thought that day would come, that a small soviet child would enforce the naked crotch of barbie into my eye. a mixture of the fact that she was crying, and the fact that i had a plastic foot lodged in my face, i actually felt a sprinkle of salty tear roll down my face... Russia reigns supreme once more.

i called dad to come upstairs again. he had the phone in his hand, as if it was some magical trident, i knew he had a plan

he simply said to the screaming girl "phone cecilia"

(cecilia is the woman who is in charge of all of the russian children on this charity project... lovely lady, however, there is always a look of fear in Gallias eye, whenever cecilias name is mentioned)

the father and the russian locked eyes.

she got in the god damned bath.

dad left the bathroom... and i was pelted with an array of barbies, shampoo bottles and bars of soap.

little devil. i didn't sign up for this

because cups taste OH SO SALTY.

right, being the perfect child that i am, i was unloading the dishwasher. Galia (russian kiddo) comes along, and is oddly eager to help me...

(as i havn't told you before, she is a VERY keen helper, which is sometimes good, but very often somewhat annoying. she likes to but into anything that you're doing, and offer her help... but she tends to wreck things, because she is russian, and everything she does turns to crap)

anyway, i allowed her to give a little-radioactive-helping hand, as afterall, who wouldn't want help unloading the dishwasher?! we'd been unloading the dishwasher for about 2 minutes; i'd given her the tea-cup duty, and she seemed to be doing pretty damn well (considering that in russia she probably has no sink, and they drink out of their cupped hands... well that's what i like to think.) everytime i turned around to check that she wasn't doing anything weird, she seemed to do a cheeky smile, and carry on with her little chore

to be honest with you, this made me a little bit uncomfortable, and panic even more

i knew she was up to something, and GODDAMMIT i was going to find out. oh dear lord, all this russian crap is turning me gradually insane!

every few seconds, i'd hear the 'cling' of her tea cups. i'd spin around, like a ninja, to check what weird shit she was doing... but everytime i span, she seemed to be doing nothing wrong

i turned back, to do my job...

then span to look at her. still nothing. she was doing nothing... all i could think was "what the hell am i going to blog about if she's being a normal, socially acceptable human being?!"

i turned back around and went to pick up a plate from the dishwasher...THEN BAM, i'd lured her into a false sense of security. she thought i wasn't looking. i span round. and i caught her in the act

she had the teacup up near her face...

and she was licking it... full on, licking the entire thing. round the handle, the rim, the inside of it. EVERYTHING

i went over to the teacup rack where she'd put a few cups, and i was not ready for what i was about to see....

there were some soggy cups on that rack, with the saliva of a russian 7 year old

i looked at her

she looked back, with spit around her mouth, grinning.

i will never drink from a mug again

Russia:2 England:0

who needs clothes, when you've got warmth in a bottle?

hey just before you read this, if you're a new set of eyes to my blog, you need to read from the post at the BOTTOM OF THE PAGE, or you wont understand what's going on. just a tip because i don't want you to think im weird, but i can't be arsed with explaining all over again.

Anywho. this story is dedicated to Suzy Lockwood, because she asked for it to be that way.

the first day that our russian friend arrived, which was last friday, we picked her up from the village hall, grabbed her things and walked back to our house. When we arrived home, we noticed that her bag was unexplicably heavy... but with that, my parents sent me to take it up to her room, and i set it on the bed.

a while later, small russian girl drags me and the famalam upstairs, and starts to unpack her bag...

she gets out a huge cardboard box form within it, takes out a huge bag of some weird Russian sweets, as a present for us (which i am under strict instruction from my mother not to eat, because they might make me grow extra legs or some shit)

then she started to take out these long cylinder shaped parcels wrapped in newpaper and teatowels...

my mum started to unwrap them, and it became apparent that these parcels were vodka. a selection of different flavours (lemon, cherry etc etc)

there were a couple of bottles in total, and some weird jug that her mum had bought for us as a gift, which meant that her bag was pretty much full to the top... this meant that she had absolutely no room for ANY clothing whatsoever. I like to see this as a representation of russian parenting... a massive 'screw you' to western society, as russian parents obviously think 'who needs clothes, when you've got liquid warmth?!'