You guys. I’m so sorry this site has been a bit of a trainwreck for the past few days and that you had to suffer through hours and hours of downtime, a fact I’m sure put a serious dent into your enjoyment of what would otherwise be a fantastic life. When you hear about why the site was down and I couldn’t fix it right away, I’m sure you’ll understand and forgive me, and this tragedy will serve only to make our love stronger.
Before we get to that, though, check out this shit.
Go ahead! Play the song! Right here! (It might make the rest of this post more tolerable.) You don’t have to click links to listen to music any more. How groundbreakingly awesome is that? It’s like there’s a party right here on this website.
I’ve been through a lot since we last talked and honestly, I’m kind of exhausted.
I’m sure you’ve seen those commercials with the miniature giraffe and the guy from Criminal Minds who really creeps me out when he’s Irish but comes off as a rather pleasant fellow when he’s Russian. Who hasn’t wanted a miniature giraffe after seeing these? I know I did, even when you take into account the 950 animals we already have.
Imagine my delight when I found Sokoblovsky Farms, Russia’s Finest Purveyors of Petite Lap Giraffes. I immediately called their 800 number and spoke to someone who informed me that “Baby reserved for prince,” which was disappointing. However, they had an adolescent who hadn’t been adopted as a baby and needed a home. Of course, I would’ve preferred a baby, but let’s be honest here — an adolescent petite lap giraffe is better than no petite lap giraffe at all.
As you know, I don’t fly. However, in a situation such as this where a petite lap giraffe was at stake, I did what I had to do, which involved stellar prescription medication and a large amount of tequila. I brought as my travel companion Behemoth from Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, mainly because my Russian is a little rusty. (I studied Russian in college.) I might not remember much, but I can name most parts of a physical structure such as a classroom (Что это?) and tell a mean story about grandpa being attacked by a pelican. Behemoth’s grasp of Russian came in handy when we landed in Moscow and saw the ridiculous plane we were supposed to take to Krasnodar International Airport (Mark Cuban Air or some shit). I was seriously hungover by then and we decided to drive the 700 some miles south from Moscow.
As you may have guessed, Armand van Helden is huge in Russia. To stay awake during the drive, we listened to him and drove with the windows down on occasion even though it was ass cold out there. It was kind of like driving through Nebraska, but longer and with more trees. It’s a drive that allows you to experience the kind of exquisite boredom that makes things like your rental car agreement or fast-food ketchup packets side-splittingly hilarious.
Sokoblovsky Farms is 80 kilometers outside Krasnodar. We arrived feeling tired and downtrodden, but were served a restorative cabbage soup by a descendant of Great Grandfather Nicolas himself. After that, Behemoth and I were feeling much better. We were shown around the farm and even got to meet Vladimir, the head honcho petite lap giraffe, if you will (and you will, trust me). He is, as you might imagine, an exceptionally polite animal. Behemoth and I were impressed by the entire operation.
While we were at Sokoblovsky Farms, 80 kilometers outside Krasnodar, Russia, I became aware of problems on my website. Internet access is spotty, at best, in this area of Russia, and I was unable to remedy the situation at the time. You guys, it’s nothing short of a miracle that they’re able to keep that Giraffe-Cam up and running with any sort of regularity.
It was getting late by this time, so we had to scoop up our little Petunia (I know the intentions were good, but “Anna Karenina” is just too much name for a petite lap giraffe) and be on our way. I spent the entire drive back to Moscow worrying about how we’d shuttle our new friend aboard an airplane and through customs. They don’t even let you bring full-size shampoo on planes any more. What will they make of a petite lap giraffe?
At the airport, I got totally shitfaced and forgot to worry about these things. Behemoth, being rather crafty in addition to possessing exemplary Russian skills, cut a hole in the top of a cat carrier, so Petunia could fit inside and stick her head out the top and avoid the unpleasant neck cramps that would result from being a giraffe in a container meant for a cat or small dog. He also swished us right through customs, having a friend in high places at the airport or some such. I don’t pretend to understand Behemoth.
Although I was exhausted after we arrived home, we had to throw a party (you’re contractually obligated by the Petite Lap Giraffe Adoption Agreement to throw a party to celebrate your giraffe’s adoption on your arrival home). I figured the party should be New-Year’s-Eve-like in its magnitude, so I wore a maxi dress and a tiara. As you can see in the picture, I even hung Christmas stockings. (It’s a tight squeeze but yes, the giraffe does fit in the stocking. Imagine finding that on Christmas morning!)
Despite having to fly and, as a result, consume enough alcohol for an entire fraternity, traveling to Sokoblovsky Farms was an A++ experience. Petunia is in good health and is settling in nicely with our family. She and Sadie, in particular, are already fast friends and snuggle together on the couch in the evening, watching crime shows.
Disclaimer: My opinions on Sokoblovsky Farms are my own. I received no compensation from the owners, staff, or petite lap giraffes to write this post. Unfortunately, I have no commercial interest in any going concern involved in the production, distribution, or implementation of petite lap giraffes.