Confessions of an American Tourist

Our stay in St. Petersburg was coming to an end and Lauren and I were in no mood to go back to the oppressive reality that is the U.S. Privately, I was feeling anxious about the return trip. Especially since a fucking Moses-like character had specifically warned us about it. If only this elderly gentleman really were Moses, then he could part the Atlantic and we could just drive straight home, avoiding Southern roads for the most part. But I guess life just isn't like that. And maybe Lauren and I will learn something about sticking it out when all we want to do is take a damn flight home. Oh well. We never spoke about this to each other, but I suspect she had similar anxieties... because she wrote them to me on a post-it note which she put on the shower wall in the hotel bathroom.

It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon when Lauren said she wanted to see a silly "rom-com" to brighten her mood. I wasn't sure how much a simple movie would be able to brighten her mood since for years now she's been gambling as a mood enhancer, but I agreed that a movie would be nice. We went by a charming theater down a strange alley. The one movie they were playing was "Confessions of a Shopaholic". "How bad could it be?", Lauren said. "Yeah I mean, I'm sure it's charming and adorable. Lets not be pretentious." I responded. We both decided not to be pretentious right there and then.

So there we were, two unsuspecting American girls, buying tickets to go see a movie about a girl with a weakness for chicness. And we saw that movie. we saw it all the way through.

...but we almost didn't. This movie is particularly atrocious. Yeah, I gotta bring out the fifty-cent words for this one.

First of all, the whole plot of the movie forces the viewer to look through the lens of Capitalism and economy. And once Ryan Tepperman told me that the economy in the U.S. is very bad right now (I did not know this because my family has a pool with a waterfall). So this movie is sending a really backwards message to its audience. Isla Fisher was MUCH more entertaining as a shopaholic than she was as a person finding some kind of absurd version of peace.

But anyway, before I get carried away, I'll just admit that Lauren and I actually did not see the movie all the way through. Sorry guys, I was just too embarrassed to admit my own shortcomings. But in our defense, it had nothing to do with our ability to endure. Lauren and I are enduring creatures, or creatures of great endurance. What went down was a little bit of Russian hospitality a la Cold War Era buuhhhllllllsshhhhittt.

In other words, guess who didn't like the heavy overtones of capitalism in "Confessions of a Shopaholic"? Russia.
And guess who also didn't like the "touchy/feely" confession format of the movie? Russia.
And guess whose red hair caused us problems yet again???.....LAUREN. FUCKING LIABILITY....her red hair is a liability.

The Russian cops came in towards the end of the movie, but just early enough so that we still don't know if she made it to her friend's wedding. (YO HOLLA AT ME IF YOU KNOW IF SHE DID, 978-835-1712). And as we were all grumpily filing out of the theater one of the cops spotted Lauren and thought she was Isla Fisher. He coldly separated us from the group and pushed Lauren and I into a van. He blind-folded us which made me very uncomfortable, however it made Lauren much more comfortable thanks to her lifestyle choices (see: Slob on my Knob). After driving for about 20 minutes he stopped the car and took our blind-folds off. We were in an empty parking garage that had murder written all over it. But just when I was beginning to give up all hope the Russian officer broke down in tears. He explained to us (in broken english) that he was a HUGE Isla Fisher fan and couldn't stand to see her killed, which would surely have been our fate if the other officers had seen Lauren. He told us he would give us until midnight that night to get out of St. Petersburg. We told him we were grateful for his mercy and fled the scene.

The second we knew we were far enough away we both exclaimed, "CHRIST ALMIGHTY! PRAISE HIM!". We made our way to the Versa.


It was time.