пожалуйста

Last year at this time, anticipation was building for the Olympics in Sochi, Russia.

This was a heaven-sent birthday present to someone like me, who likes to poke fun of the Motherland.

Also as a second generation American who is from considerable Russian descent, there's nothing I like better than to have a laugh at the anti-Semitic, vodka-swilling dumbkoffs who were at one time were our mortal political enemies.

Russia, like North Korea, is the photographic gift that keeps giving.

So you can imagine my orgasmic delight when just a few days ago, a Facebook friend put up a link to a collection of photos from a Russian dating site. If you're not quivering now, take a deep breath, soon you will be.

The 200 lbs. female (in the red dress) laying next to the 300 lbs. Baltic Blue Gruper was one of my favorites. I'm pretty sure her Saturday Night Dance Card filled up quite quickly.

This came from one eager suitor:

"First, I shall take you to the smelt farm, where we will dine and take in the aroma of millions of smelt. Then, Dashka if I may call you that, we will push my 1957 Volga (needs a new carburetor) to a little club I know near the Barvika River. We will drink. We will dance. And I will get my front teeth knocked out in bar fight to protect your honor. Because that is how lovely you look to me." 

Oh God Rich, I can hear you saying through the Interwebs, please share more of these pictures.

Please.

That's not just any axe.

That's a family heirloom, passed down to her from her great, great grandfather, Grigori, a Kossack who made a name for himself pillaging schtettles and bringing home booty from the huts of old Jews. Klavdiya might consider using the trusty weapon for something other than cutting flowers. Track down some feral pigs or a slow-moving moose.

Eat something for god's sake.

There's an old maxim that women love a man with a sense of humor. From my single years, I know this to be true and can attest that in my youth scores of women simply threw themselves at me. I'm not so sure about the converse. Dressing up as a steer or a cow, there's some gender issues going on here, doesn't ring my horny bell. Maybe it works for Russian guys, who knows.

Also, what's with the flower pot on the couch?

And then there's this.

I've been married a long time, and admittedly unfamiliar with the process of Internet dating, but I am very confused about the multiple women in one picture motif. How would a potential soul mate  respond to an ad like that?

"Hello I am Petrov. I am most interested in the girl wrapped in the Persian Rug. No, not the Persian rug with the circle patterns. The Persian Rug with the star shapes. The one that is tied to the Birch tree."  

If I were a prick and wanted to see my web traffic soar tomorrow as I am sure it will today, I could promise to put up the link to SIXTY THREE more of these classic Cyrillic beauties on Wednesday's R17 post. But despite what some people say, I am not a prick.

Enjoy.

You're welcome.