Olga came in a box, bubble-wrapped like a porcelain doll, holes punched into it so she could breathe. The shady website I bought her off of had to be translated by my sketchy coworker Sergei. I was $60 lighter, but now I had someone living in my house who did everything I pleased. And we’re not just talking washing dishes after one of my cooking frenzies! What made it all worth it, besides the commie sex of course, was that she had a white Russian prepared for me as soon as I came home from work. To this day, I have never found anyone who could make the drink half as well as my little Olga. What happened to her you ask? Turns out it was all a scam so she could steal my identity and my collection of baseball cards. I don’t even think Olga was her real name. Those rascally Russians! Read the rest of this entry »