A Story

So God has finished making the world, and all the parts in it. He calls up all the humans, and starts giving them their respective countries. The Canadians receive their sprawling tundras, the Nepalese their high mountains, Kenyans their expansive grasslands. The whole endeavor took a really long time, but at the end of the day, all the peoples of the world had their own special place.

Except for the Georgians.

They had been busy partying at a supra, and missed their turn to receive their country. Stumbling up to God hours after the fact, they apologized, and asked where they could go.

"Sorry, guys," God said. "There's no world left for you."

"Vaimeeeeeeeeee!" the Georgians drunkenly cried.

God felt bad about this, and pondered what he could do for this group of people who were oozing chacha out of their very pores. He sighed with his final decision.

"There is one small part of this world left, and I had made it for myself. And since you need your own home, and I'm God, I guess I can give you my little corner."

And God transported the supra'd Georgians to their new home, which they called Sakartvelo - or Georgia.

Moral of the story, kids:

Get too drunk and fat at parties when you have important shit to do, and it will all work out in even better ways than you could have hoped for!