On the way home from work today -- a meandering route that saw me meeting with my latest main squeeze for a bit of fooling around -- I think virtually every person that I saw was drinking beer. It's a mild night and the number of people lounging around with beer on park benches and street corners was . . . inspiring. Really.
Encroaching shopping malls or no, this place still rocks out.
Course I saw a couple of big-ass rats, too.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Summer Clearance! Big Savings!
So you see these thugs in their Adidas tracksuits, but you never think about them going out to buy them. There was a 50% off sale at the Adidas sports shop, I went in there to check it out, and there were all these shaved-head, no-neck thugs in their picking out track suits.
It tickled me for some reason.
Back in 2000 when I first got here, Vodkaberg was seriously lacking in shopping options. There were basically only two shopping centers, which mostly just had piles of low-quality, overpriced clothes from Turkey and China. Most people that could afford it went to Moscow to shop.
Now, however, the place is crawling with new modern shopping malls -- at least seven or eight of them. Even have a food court at one of them. Progress, they call it.
It tickled me for some reason.
Back in 2000 when I first got here, Vodkaberg was seriously lacking in shopping options. There were basically only two shopping centers, which mostly just had piles of low-quality, overpriced clothes from Turkey and China. Most people that could afford it went to Moscow to shop.
Now, however, the place is crawling with new modern shopping malls -- at least seven or eight of them. Even have a food court at one of them. Progress, they call it.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
What More Evidence Do You Need?
Well, I see they've arrested the alledged murderer of JonBenet Ramsey in Thailand. He was apparently working there as a teacher. He's being sent back to the US for trial now, having confessed.
Suppose there are a lot of jokes to make about his profession of choice, but I can't decide on the best one. "Well, should have left him there to teach! It would have been a far worse punishment than prison!" or perhaps, "That's water finding its own level, eh?" or maybe, "Sure he's guilty! What more evidence do you need?!"
Suppose there are a lot of jokes to make about his profession of choice, but I can't decide on the best one. "Well, should have left him there to teach! It would have been a far worse punishment than prison!" or perhaps, "That's water finding its own level, eh?" or maybe, "Sure he's guilty! What more evidence do you need?!"
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Meat Loaf, Waterslides, Boobies. . . THE GAME!
The problem with having women around all the time is that you don't have enough time to jack off.
I was just looking at some stuff on the Internet about Neil Strauss, author of THE GAME, which I haven't read but I guess is some sort of book about how to pick up chicks, and groups of people who spend all their time doing so, thinking about doing so, and then teaching others to do so, for a small fee.
Good lord, I thought. Have these people never heard of jacking off?
Let me tell you about THE GAME:
Tonight I got stood up by a big-breasted blonde trollop. Actually, she invited HERSELF out on a date with me, and then stood me up. Pretty brazen, hmm.
I had sex with her a couple of weeks ago; the story of how I ended up sleeping with her was thus:
English Teacher A cooked cannoloni for English Teacher P and I one Sunday a few weeks ago, and we of course had a bottle of vodka for desert, and watched MEAT LOAF: LIVE IN MELBOURNE on DVD, and then just sort of rocked out, we bunch of middle-aged men -- I'm 37, ETA is 40, ETP is 52 -- dancing around to Pink Floyd and the Stones.
Then I got a call from this bimbo, who I'd met at a nightclub a few weeks previously, inviting me to the beach. (She'd made a date with me "to study English" a few days previously, but cancelled at the last minute because she was having her monthlies. Subtle, eh?)
ETP said he was going to tag along, with the express intention of ruining my date. "Do your damndest," I said. "I don't have a good time -- I AM a good time!"
And, when we arrived at the beach, it was as I suspected -- she was surrounded by gorillas. Her friends were all security guards at the nightclub she worked at, and they were all even drunker than we were. She was jumping around on the beach in her bathing suit, and her breasts kept popping out of her top. She dragged me into the water for some making out and such, while ETP blathered away with all the gorillas, who were as usual impressed to meet a foreigner.
Feeling he needed more stimulation, I then forced ETP to go down the water slide on the beach a few times. This was great fun for both of us.
After the sun went down, we eneded up at a cafe -- me, ETP, the trollop and one gorilla -- smoking a Turkish water pipe. The trollop asked me to escort her to the toilet, and after she went, said, "Why don't we just go back to your place?" Which of course we did. We went inside and without even turning on the light, she immediately began removing her clothes and laid down on the bed. We had technically proficient but ultimately pretty boring sex -- porno movie sex -- everybody going through the motions but pretty much bored shitless.
I'll be happy to teach anyone how to pick up chick and have such a satisfying existence -- just send me like $50 or so.
I'm happy that she stood me up, actually, because I can now peacefully sit home and drink beer, and jack off, and not worry about being sleepless all night because her sweaty-ass naked body is laying next to mine all night. And I can fart whenever I feel like it.
Meat Loaf rocks!
I was just looking at some stuff on the Internet about Neil Strauss, author of THE GAME, which I haven't read but I guess is some sort of book about how to pick up chicks, and groups of people who spend all their time doing so, thinking about doing so, and then teaching others to do so, for a small fee.
Good lord, I thought. Have these people never heard of jacking off?
Let me tell you about THE GAME:
Tonight I got stood up by a big-breasted blonde trollop. Actually, she invited HERSELF out on a date with me, and then stood me up. Pretty brazen, hmm.
I had sex with her a couple of weeks ago; the story of how I ended up sleeping with her was thus:
English Teacher A cooked cannoloni for English Teacher P and I one Sunday a few weeks ago, and we of course had a bottle of vodka for desert, and watched MEAT LOAF: LIVE IN MELBOURNE on DVD, and then just sort of rocked out, we bunch of middle-aged men -- I'm 37, ETA is 40, ETP is 52 -- dancing around to Pink Floyd and the Stones.
Then I got a call from this bimbo, who I'd met at a nightclub a few weeks previously, inviting me to the beach. (She'd made a date with me "to study English" a few days previously, but cancelled at the last minute because she was having her monthlies. Subtle, eh?)
ETP said he was going to tag along, with the express intention of ruining my date. "Do your damndest," I said. "I don't have a good time -- I AM a good time!"
And, when we arrived at the beach, it was as I suspected -- she was surrounded by gorillas. Her friends were all security guards at the nightclub she worked at, and they were all even drunker than we were. She was jumping around on the beach in her bathing suit, and her breasts kept popping out of her top. She dragged me into the water for some making out and such, while ETP blathered away with all the gorillas, who were as usual impressed to meet a foreigner.
Feeling he needed more stimulation, I then forced ETP to go down the water slide on the beach a few times. This was great fun for both of us.
After the sun went down, we eneded up at a cafe -- me, ETP, the trollop and one gorilla -- smoking a Turkish water pipe. The trollop asked me to escort her to the toilet, and after she went, said, "Why don't we just go back to your place?" Which of course we did. We went inside and without even turning on the light, she immediately began removing her clothes and laid down on the bed. We had technically proficient but ultimately pretty boring sex -- porno movie sex -- everybody going through the motions but pretty much bored shitless.
I'm happy that she stood me up, actually, because I can now peacefully sit home and drink beer, and jack off, and not worry about being sleepless all night because her sweaty-ass naked body is laying next to mine all night. And I can fart whenever I feel like it.
Meat Loaf rocks!
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Toxic Vodka Syndrome
So everybody says, "Oh, wow, you live in Russia, must be a lot of good vodka there."
No. There isn't.
Vitually every nightclub sells not vodka but an incredibly toxic mix of methlyated spirit plus water. (If you're lucky you get ethylated spirit plus water, which is a bit better for you.) I suppose for the price (less than 50 cents) you can't complain -- unless you consider the many side effects, ranging from blindness to instant death, impotence and brain damage. Most of the vodka you buy at kiosks and a lot of the vodka you buy in supermarkets is the same shit -- spirit plus water, with distillation being only a distant dream.
We went to one of the better nightclubs in town last week and drank 2 shots of vodka apiece, which rendered us all violently ill, with puking in one other teacher's case and fever and extreme nausea in my case.
That's why we consider absinthe a safer option.
No. There isn't.
Vitually every nightclub sells not vodka but an incredibly toxic mix of methlyated spirit plus water. (If you're lucky you get ethylated spirit plus water, which is a bit better for you.) I suppose for the price (less than 50 cents) you can't complain -- unless you consider the many side effects, ranging from blindness to instant death, impotence and brain damage. Most of the vodka you buy at kiosks and a lot of the vodka you buy in supermarkets is the same shit -- spirit plus water, with distillation being only a distant dream.
We went to one of the better nightclubs in town last week and drank 2 shots of vodka apiece, which rendered us all violently ill, with puking in one other teacher's case and fever and extreme nausea in my case.
That's why we consider absinthe a safer option.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Racialism
Since the last entry brought about comments about (and perhaps allegations of) racial predjudice, let me mention a conversation I had with a student a few days ago at school.
This student had lived in St. Louis, in America, for about a year while her husband finished up a Master’s Degree in Computer Science.
She wanted to know what I thought about Mexican immigrants.
She considered it a big problem in America, that they were taking jobs away, that they worked illegally and didn’t pay taxes, that they were an un-necessary burden on the hospital system.
I pointed out that I knew of plenty of illegal Russian immigrants in New York.
“No,” she said. “It’s not possible. They have visas. Mexicans simply run across the border, how could a Russian do that?”
I replied that usually they came on a legal visa, to study or to work for a summer, but then simply stayed. (I know that most of my students in New York worked illegally, and I’ve heard that about 30 percent of Russians who visit the U.S. on a temporary visa don’t come back. Not sure if that statistic is true.) They too worked illegally, and didn’t pay taxes.
“Well, but they have educations. They have degrees and training. Like my husband, he has two higher educations and he is going to work for Google.”
“So I’m supposed to feel better that they take the good jobs away from Americans, rather than the bad jobs?”
The conversation ended inconclusively shortly thereafter. Anyway, somebody in New York told me that percentage-wise, the highest number of illegal immigrants to America are the Irish.
This student had lived in St. Louis, in America, for about a year while her husband finished up a Master’s Degree in Computer Science.
She wanted to know what I thought about Mexican immigrants.
She considered it a big problem in America, that they were taking jobs away, that they worked illegally and didn’t pay taxes, that they were an un-necessary burden on the hospital system.
I pointed out that I knew of plenty of illegal Russian immigrants in New York.
“No,” she said. “It’s not possible. They have visas. Mexicans simply run across the border, how could a Russian do that?”
I replied that usually they came on a legal visa, to study or to work for a summer, but then simply stayed. (I know that most of my students in New York worked illegally, and I’ve heard that about 30 percent of Russians who visit the U.S. on a temporary visa don’t come back. Not sure if that statistic is true.) They too worked illegally, and didn’t pay taxes.
“Well, but they have educations. They have degrees and training. Like my husband, he has two higher educations and he is going to work for Google.”
“So I’m supposed to feel better that they take the good jobs away from Americans, rather than the bad jobs?”
The conversation ended inconclusively shortly thereafter. Anyway, somebody in New York told me that percentage-wise, the highest number of illegal immigrants to America are the Irish.
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