Disgusting Bar-Room Conversation Part 4

This is, I suppose, as bad as it gets. . .

The disgusting Australian bastard in question was one of a type that in the 90's infested Thailand and the Phillipines in large numbers -- burly, bald, middle-aged, leering, arms covered with blurred tattoos, living in Southeast Asia on some type of pension or dodgy disability payment, married to a small leathery-skinned woman.

He was one of a number of guys there who, having no particular need of the money, worked mainly to get away from their wives for a few hours.

In short, all the worst stereotypes you can think of when you think of foreigners in Southeast ASia.

Whatever happened to him, I fortunately have no idea.

Disgusting Bar-Room Conversations, Part 3

Funnily enough, this was a conversation we had with a Russian girl, not a Frumpy English Teacher type.

Naturally this conversation lead into the subject of lifetime total number of sex-partners; I was 32 or so at the time and the number, including blowjobs and various other everything-but sex acts, couldn't possibly have been higher than 50, but I said, "Well, let's see -- I've been having sex since I was 16 -- 3 or 4 different girls on average per year, I don't know, 60 or 70."

The two Russian chicks-- die-hard English groupies, both of whom were only 19 -- conversed animatedly in Russian for a second, and then began laughing. "Probably about 60 for her," said the blonde one. "She's probably has more than 100," said the brunette one.

We expressed skepticism. They offered some graphic details. They had been going to nighclubs every weeekend since they were 15, where they almost always had sex with somebody afterwards, and spent at least 2 to 4 weeks abroad during the summer, in Turkey or Greece, where they had sex with considerable numbers more.

I wonder which number I had been. . .

Let me emphasize -- this was back in 2002, and from what I hear that kind of 90's sexual revolution stuff is over in Russia -- that sort of R and B music video "I'm way too cool to fuck" attitude is in now.

Anyway, both of them were married by the time they were 22 anyway, so what's the big deal.

Disgusting Bar-Room Conversations, Part 2

I hope you can read the punchline okay, as well as noticing the changes in time at the top; obviously the point here is to track the increasing vulgarity of an evening's conversation.

It's a compendium of such conversations obviously, but the recurring joke about peeing in someone's butt, and the possibility of doing so, was from Russia around 2003 - 2004, thanks to English Teacher R.

As a sidenote, we were at that time so cut off from the internet, or at least fast internet, that none of us had heard of Max Hardcore, who has committed that, and many other, vile acts to video.

While we prided ourselves on our worldliness as well as our vulgarity, we would soon be schooled in such things by 22-year-olds with a lengthy internet history: I'd never even heard of the Donkey Punch until they told me about it in 2005.

Another sidenote: I don't know why, but I always end up drinking at bars and cafes where they never clean the bottles off the tables. This was in both Thailand and Russia. If you need pictoral evidence that I'm not exaggerating, here's a blurry cameraphone picture from 2006 or so.

Disgusting Bar-room Conversation Number 1

This was the first cartoon I drew about disgusting bar-room conversations, but it certainly wasn't the first disgusting bar-room conversation I had. (In fact one of the first ones was the Gonorrhea of the Eyes cartoon in this entry.)

This was in Prague in 2000; the primary womanizer in that case, last I heard, is now happily married there to a Czech girl. (Although last I heard means about 5 years ago.)

I suppose bar-room conversations of university students, or of young men who are police officers, firefighters, stockbrokers or such, are just as joyfully misogynistic, perverted and profane. . . I wouldn't really know, other than from films like COMPANY OF MEN and shows like RESCUE ME. But English teachers abroad seem to particularly revel in this kind of thing.

Anyway -- free-spirited high-living Byronic heroes, or juvenile scatology-obsessed misogynists? You be the judge.

Current Events; or, Not Even With a Bag Over Her Head

Click this link to read about

Some horsey-faced middle-aged American woman wrote a blog about all the sex and drugs at the international law firm she was working at in Moscow, and got fired for her troubles.

and what's more -- she banged Russian DUDES? Yeecch! Clearly some self-esteem issues.

The fact that "expats" get drunk and fuck a lot is hardly news to anybody with half a brain in their head. Hemingway and Somerset Maugham were writing about that back in the 20's and 30's. It's not just Moscow -- "expat culture" anywhere, from Dubai to Hong Kong, from Bangkok to Rio, is equally dissipated.

The biggest danger is thinking that your experiences are somehow remarkable. (I plead guilty.)

While I suppose English teachers are expats, per se, I don't think of them when I think of that term; "expat" means engineers and lawyers and all those high-dollar riffraff. There's a second ring that consists of embassy employees and military types who have slightly more restrictions on what they do and where they go; and then there's the outer circle of foreigners working abroad that consists of English teachers, scuba diving instructors, Filipino housemaids, pirates, sex slaves, etc.

The point to notice here -- she was working for a law firm and making more than six figures a year. As an English teacher in Moscow you are very lucky even to make five figures a year. So please -- don't read this and send me a letter about how you want advice about working in Moscow as an English teacher. Go to fucking law school.

The State of X

Two months without sex.

(Or touching or kissing a woman, etc.)

You could do that, couldn't you? Sure. It's not so difficult.

The semester starts at the end of September -- our first one-week holiday is at the end of November. Our second one-week holiday is at the beginning of February. There's another in the middle of April.

Then we get a 2.5 month holiday beginning in July.

So, two months, maybe ten weeks, without a woman. Except on the other side of a computer screen.

Difficult?

Well.

Most of the time I don't think about it, you know. Sometimes I even forget to masturbate for several days at a time.

Then I masturbate non-stop for a few days, sometimes three or four times a day.

Undoubtedly there are misadventures to get into here -- if only in the capital -- where bootleg hooch and overweight Canadians chicks roam. Or of course in Bahrain or Dubai.

But I avoid them. My job and life are pretty drama free.

Alone in the desert like Obi Wan Kenobi, waiting. . .