One again I almost got my ass kicked last night. We went to the nightclub on a rare mid-week absinthe binge, and this incredibly good-looking Kazakh girl with very large breasts started dancing with me.
After about ten pleasant minutes, along comes this shaved-head tracksuited Neandrethal and places himself between us.
Drunk, I shouted in Russian, "WHAT DO YOU WANT, HOOLIGAN??!!"
He started taking off his tracksuit top -- I guess he didn't want to get my blood on it -- and his posse of goons started flanking me. The girl pushed him away and started trying to talk to him.
Fortunately one of my colleagues was wise enough to go call the security guards.
"I don't understand this, he's not my boyfriend, he's not my husband," said the girl. She then went over and talked to him and he became all morose and they started hugging.
Then one of her female friends came over and grabbed me and started dancing with me.
Russian girls. Dare to dare.
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