You Can’t Spell Russian without “Us”

If there’s anything better than getting pissed with good friends and having nothing to do the next day, I don’t want to know about it. The Russians invaded the West Island with a fury and brought a little Eastern Euro flair into the mix. We had an accent competition with one guy boasting of his talent to mimic diverse dialects and inflections – they all sounded the same to me, dude. I’m itchin’ to try out my new Russian stock phrases at these Russian club parties I’ve heard of, which sound incredibly exciting. I figure I’ll either get beaten up or go home with a mail-order bride someone left at the post office.

Andre, showcasing his trademark generosity, flashed us a provocative one-tenth of his ball (I call it a testy tithe). If you think that was bad, he then wanted to charge us for that freak show. All I have to say is that there was a little too much Cheese and not enough Pork for me to fork over some cash.

The rest of the night gets a bit hazy. I remember singing, and someone breaking my necklace, and doing vodka shots, and then seeing myself on TV. Maybe Andre and I could start our own show, “Peep my Balls”.

Nah. We’d probably only get viewers Back in the USSR.