Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Bad Absinthe After Good

Saturday I went to the nightclub to meet a very hot little slattern who I'd met a few weeks before -- she's so dim, however, that she at first refused to believe that I was actually American, and that I was just talking Russian with an accent to try to fool her. She decided she liked me, however, and was sending me text messages every day during the two weeks she was in St. Petersberg.

Than she arrived back in Vodkaberg on Saturday, and around twelve was calling me every five minutes to see when I'd get to the nightclub. She greeted me like I'd been away at war or something, smothering me with kisses, as the saying goes.

I offered to buy her a drink, and as I was having absinthe, she asked if she could have one too. I bought two, downed mine -- then she smelled hers, said that it smelled bad, turned around and gave it to some foppy orange-shirted metrosexual boy she knew, then spent the rest of the evening dancing with some gangster looking type.

I gets no respect, I tell you.

4 comments:

Josh said...

Are you pretty much fluent in Russian by now?

nobody said...

Tucker Max would have done the Midget.

Jimmyyourcrickets said...

I believe they are known in civilized countries as "tarts."

English Teacher X said...

I get by in Russian, not much more. Most of the people I know want to speak English with me.

Nobody, I think I can get you the address of the midget if you want it. . .