Where the Hell is VODKABERG?

I promised a book about my 9 years in Russia in "spring or summer 2012."

I'm now at least two months behind the first deadline. The book is basically done; it's with my editor now, getting a final edit, and then it'll come back to me and get formatted for publishing -- and then it'll be up.

When will that be exactly?

Well, uh, soon!

So mea culpa. I've had a lot of shit to do. I got a sick father and a stressed-out girlfriend, in addition to all the time I spend running around in the woods playing guns.

Anyway, while you're waiting, here's an excerpt:

excerpt from VODKABERG

Russia, 2002.

(Our hero begins to discover the joys of incessant womanizing, and begins to practice "defensive dating" by dating several wanton, unfaithful women at the same time.)


The dental student often came to the Saturday parties before going to the Degenerate Bar, but we had a problem. I was too embarrassed to take her into the other room and have sex with her while the guests were there, and she couldn’t stay with me because her husband would always pick her up from the gay bar at 2:00 am.

We made out in the bathroom and she fondled my cock in the hallway. I got her in my upstairs molestation corner at the Degenerate Bar many times.

“When will you come visit me?” I asked in my halting Russian.

“Wait,” she said, smiling.

One evening, Crazy Angel called me as I was coming home from work.

“I’m coming over tonight. Get ready to have a lot of sex,” she said.

“Sounds good!” I enthused.

She arrived at about 10:30 pm and we had a couple of beers and she told me that someone had given her some sort of “Viagra for women.” She showed me the small tube and said that a friend had told her that rubbing it on her pussy lips had driven her wild.

I examined the tube; it seemed that the only active ingredient in it was menthol. I supposed that it would do nothing but create a painful and unpleasant burning sensation, but I certainly didn’t want to deter her from a night of crazy sex.
We made out a little and she got in the shower, where, as usual, she stayed for nearly 45 minutes. (The centrally provided, unlimited hot water was one of the nicer things about living in Russia, although in the summer, it can disappear for a month or two.)

I drank another beer, waiting for her expectantly. But when she got out, I saw that her mood had changed; she was mercurial and intractable, and I knew there was no point trying to change her mind. (And definitely no point trying to force her, which would lead to permanent loss of vision and ruptured testicles, if not painful death.)

“I don’t know, I’m tired now. Maybe on the weekend,” she said.

“I can get some Viagra, the real stuff, they sell it at the pharmacy. We’ll have a contest to see how long we can fuck.”

She agreed that sounded like a good idea. I had dealt with her enough to not be bothered by her behavior; we curled up in bed. Still nursing a hardon, I eventually drifted off to sleep.

Then the next morning, as she was getting ready to go to class, I got a text message from the dental student saying that she was free from work that day and could come visit me.

Inside, I chortled with glee.

The dental student arrived; it was a bright cold March day. She was removing her high-heeled leather boots and I removed her sweater and T-shirt, revealing her blue lace bra.

We kissed and she pushed me down on the bed, unzipping my fly; her eyes widened and she smiled.

She took my cock in her hand and I prematurely ejaculated for the first time in 13 years.

We spent more than an hour having oral sex and fooling around but, discouraged, I couldn’t get more than a semi-hardon.