I Remember When All of This Used To Be Abandoned Buildings

Vodkaberg is rapidly changing from a sort of ghostly, decrepit city with an abundance of abandoned buildings, factories, and old wooden houses to a prosperous and cosmopolitan sort of place with all sorts of modern shoping centers and new apartment buildings.

It sucks.

My favorite abandoned buildings, over by the pirate DVD market, is now being demolished. (You can read about my discovery of it in the old Angelfire blog, about June 2005.) The pre-fab concrete is being dismantled in sections by Tajikistani workers, who are living on the premises. They've cleaned up the waste grounds and drained the swampy type thing.

Oh well. You can't stop progress, I suppose. Well, you can, but you need more resources than I have. Atomic bombs and such. Lab-bred viruses, electro-magnetic pulse weapons. And genetically modified wolverines. With acid for blood.

Lots Of Sex, But Not Much For Me

Last weekend was pretty degenerate, even by degenerate standards. This new Colombian guy is a walking testosterone bomb.

And he's in the enviable position of being paid nearly $13,000 a month for doing not much of anything here in Vodkaberg -- although he pointed out that his ex-wife and kids get $4000 of that, and taxes are nearly $4000 as well, so technically speaking he's only making about 5 times what I do, not 13. ( I suppose he did probably go to school longer and get more training and all that, of course. But he's only 31. Criminey.)

I don't know all the technical details of what he does, of course, but he apparently designed something for oil drilling equipment and came here from Siberia to present the plans to a company here to see if they wanted to try it; the company is trying to decide if they want to sign the contracts and when they want to start the project. So for several weeks he's just been rockin' out with half the chicks in town, at full salary, in a four room $900 a month flat provided to him by the company.

As an example, on Sunday he had sex with no less than three women during the course of the day -- it's said that one enters the Hound Dog Hall of Fame for banging three different girls on three different days; but 3 in 24 hours really puts you in the Master Class.

Curious as to the details of this I'm sure you are, so let me explain. He on Saturday night went out with some blonde chick he met in a nightclub -- had sex with her twice that night and then again once in the morning. In the afternoon, after that one left, another girl that he's been having sex with came over with one of her friends and got drunk with him and pretty obviously intended to have a three-way with him -- they were lezzing out and kissing and all that.

However, I guess the friend got shy about the serious girl-girl stuff and went in to take a shower while he was having sex with the other one.

At that point he called me and invited me over. I was a little puzzled as to why he wouldn't want them both to himself, until I saw his plan; stick me running interference with the one while he banged the new friend. (Apparently the one he's been banging has quite a crush on me, as bizarre as this sounds.)

So that's pretty much what transpired. He managed to get them seperated and did the friend. I made a very half-hearted effort to have sex with mine -- this before I knew the Colombian had had sex with her once already that day, by the way -- but she wanted to talk about philosophy and life and stuff. (I reckon now she had a post-coital depression sort of thing -- something the Colombian does not seem to suffer from.)

All my sexual experiences these weekend were profoundly unsuccessful -- I met a really good-looking blonde with big breasts and was having sex with her at about six in the morning at a friend's house (difficult enough!) and she suddenly realized she was late for work and lept up and raced away, leaving me with nothing but rosy palm.

Then the next day I was having sex with another girl that I've gone out with a few times (not pictured) after a full night of cheap beer and absinthe, and had to get up and vomit during the act -- motion sickness I suppose. Not exactly the most romantic of gestures. Could have been worse I guess, I could have puked on her face.

Blood and Sluts

I forgot to mention that on Sunday, during the slutty teenage chick dancing contest, in which you had various slanky young babes dancing around in their bras, sliding around the brass pole, making out with each other and such, two guys -- perhaps unsurprisingly -- got into a fight. One guy slugged another one in the face with a beer glass.

Blood was everywhere. Mostly from the guys nose, I don't think he was hurt all that badly, because he was still ready to go when the bouncers came up and dragged them away , but man, there was a huge amount of blood on the dancefloor.

They have a pretty good cleaning staff there and them came up with mops and spread the blood around in big colorful swoops until it finally went away.

Just another holiday Sunday in Vodkaberg.

The Universal Solvent vs. Absinthe and Lewd Dancing

I think I might have to break down and get a phone with a camera in it; it really would have come in handy this weekend. At The House of Pain, the nightclub we favor, they have a sort of amateur strip-show/ lude dancing/ teenage-girls-looking-for- attention contest and I was standing there thinking, man, wish I had a camera while everybody else was making videos with their telephones.

We met a guy from Colombia the other night too, in town for a couple weeks doing something related to engineering for an oil company. He wasn't exactly the epitome of what you think of as Colombian -- his hair was lighter than mine is now and he had a goatee and a little ponytail, was a bit chubby and was wearing a Simpsons t-shirt. Nonetheless, he had at least the soul of a Latin smoothie so he was fun to hang out with.

I ended up going out of the club with one of the little hotties from the lude dancing show, but nothing happened, we just went to a cafe and drank like three liters of water -- she was dehydrated from all the dancing and I was dehydrated from all the absinthe I'd been drinking.

Went to bed at 8:00am and woke up around 1:00pm feeling surprisingly fresh -- that universal solvent really does the trick.

Build Up

So when I worked in New York in 1997 the big deal was all the Russians who were over there working as construction workers. They worked for a lot less than their American counterparts and so had broken the back of the construction unions and pretty much taken over.

Here in Russia, most builders come from Tajikstan. (The architects and managers are Turkish, for some reason, I suppose their language is more similiar to Tajik.)

This makes me wonder who's building the houses in Tajikstan. U.N. aid missions and the Peace Corps, probably.

Traffic Jam

So, just in case you're wondering, my site still continues to languish in obscurity; no more than an average of about 30 hits a day. I think some sites get more hits than that just by accident.

However, doing a google search for englishteacherx reveals that I'm now linked on a message board related to foot fetishism; apparently they're interested in my pictures of Russian girls footware (which can be found in the photos section on www.englishteacherx.com)

I'm anxiously awaiting the influx of foot fetishists. I think they'll get a lot out of this site.

New Shit!

I posted a new story and a teacher tip on the website today. (www.englishteacherx.com) I also started a MySpace account a few months ago, mainly just so I could look at all the pictures of teenage girls in their underwear. (www.myspace.com/englishteacherx) I think myspace is pretty stupid, but it's definitely the most efficient way of looking at teenage girls in their underwear, except perhaps for the Sears Christmas catalogue.

Please Breath Into The Straw, Teacher

Just imagine this bullshit -- at work, they gave us a list of things we weren't supposed to do a few weeks ago, (as I wrote about on my website), including "Don't come to class drunk" and "Don't leave the room during class" etc. Stupid, but I signed it.

THEN yesterday, they gave us ANOTHER list of things to sign. This was in the form of a three page contract regarding things we were forbidden to do and were responsible for, describing them in great detail. There was a lot of overlap, and a lot of basic stuff like "Teachers are forbidden to use the photocopier during class hours," and be on time to class, etc.

But among the others was the following: "Teachers are forbidden to come to work under the influence of alcohol. If teachers arrive with vapors on their breath, they will be taken to the appropriate authorities and given a breath test. IF TEACHERS FAIL THE BREATH TEST, THEIR CONTRACT AND VISA SUPPORT WILL BE TERMINATED IMMEDIATELY AND THEY WILL BE GIVEN 48 HOURS TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY."

This was so histrionic, I went to the management and ridiculed the whole document, scribbling approximately fifteen or so reasons why the whole document and the school in general were completely ridiculous.

They just sort of said, "Oh, it's just something for head office; don't worry about those points too much. You're right."

Anyway, by way of civil disobedience today we drank beer in the parking lot. (It was a student's birthday, and as they often do, the student brought cake and alcoholic drinks for everyone.)

There was also something about clothes that were unacceptable -- sheer tops and spaghetti-strap tops were both mentioned. Oh, damn it. And sandals.

So we're all wearing sandals tomorrow.