Best Quote of the Night

"I need to find a pizza, let's see what Jesus thinks." -- Sammy, on why he wrote the pizza place's number in the hotel bible.

The Joys of Being a Swinger

A checklist:

1) Copulating with multiple genders.
2) Copulating with multiple genders at the same time.
3) Wrestling with professed straight men and convincing them that no, this is not foreplay.
4) Taking provocative pictures, like straddling multiple people on a couch.
5) Doing handstands over a triad of drunks while they cuddly on a bed.
6) Urinating on your girlfriend in a bathroom where a straight girl and a gay man are making out.
7) Helping straight girl to realize that no matter how crazy her sex life is, yours far exceeds hers and that she is prudish by comparison.
8) Pushing individuals to seek adult assistance in your presence.
9) Flirting with other people's exboyfriends.
10) Asking others to participate in swinging.

High Rise

Miles below the city, we sit in an empty metro car. The speed with which we move is satisfying, as our journey into Brooklyn is far and our tired feet remind us of the work it takes to walk a simple mile. Rumbling out of the depths, the dark windows become picturesque landscapes impressive enough to grace the wall of a kitschy Midwest living room. The view, as we race across the bridge, is spectacular. The skyline is illuminated by thousands of feet of humming electric lights. Little do we know that in a few hours we will enjoy a much more comprehensive view of the body of this beast from the rooftop of a Brooklyn apartment, beer in hand and our breath coloring the night. With the warmth of Nebraskan friends surrounding me and the comfort of a neighborhood below me, my feelings towards the city will be much more receptive. At this moment though, in the metro, peering through the grimy windows, New York is nothing less than intimidating. John and Ben marvel at the awesome power of man. They glorify the city as a testament to the wonders of our works and the feats we can achieve. I , however, fear the destructive capabilities of a species running amok. If we can cover so much with concrete, urbanity and consumerism, what will stop us....

Russia vs. USA: the continuing saga

Remember the cold war? Remember defending the free world from tyranny? Remember the horrors of communism? Remember teaching Russia that falling in line with the West was the only way to salvation? Well, some of us can’t forget. Some of us believe the battle continues. Some of us are reminded daily of this never-ending struggle to preserve our right to be consumer whores (mostly because the Russian pictured above sits by us in Program Monitoring and Evaluation and heckles us about Nebraskan desolation). Things have changed however. Russia has progressed since their markets have opened and they’ve bent spanked by IMF and World Bank regulations. Let’s take a look at where things stand today.

Current issues of contention, play-by-play and points awarded:

Russia earns the first point for Women’s Day: On March 8th, Russia celebrates by declaring a national holiday. No one works. There are festivals in the streets. A feast is prepared. Gifts are given. All of this just for having a vagina! America’s counter play is weak. Women get an appreciative nod by their men folk for being radical enough to wear tight clothes and shake their over exposed cleavage on the bar top and still know the genders are equal.

Penalty -- one point deducted from Russia for poisoning women: http://news.aol.com/topnews/articles/_a/poison-sickens-two-us-women-in-russia/20070307110609990001

Russia scores again, this time for inventing reasons to make merry: Russia celebrates the oppressed minority of the pancake! On February 27th, Russian's light-up their burners, flip some flapjacks and smother a moist, piping-hot stack with Moskovskaya (vodka). While the US has found other inane reasons to celebrate (like Presidents Day) it is evident that Russia has far excelled us in enjoying the smaller pleasures life has to offer by kicking back a few and stumbling home with syrup smeared in inappropriate places. *Pancake Day enjoys special recognition as it shares the above Russian's birthday.

The US finally makes a play and ties for yet again swindling a country out of land at a low price (even if the land doesn’t belong to country selling it): Russia initially claimed Alaska. Apparently the first Europeans to reach our 49th state, in 1741, were Russians. After using the land for fur and attempting to defend it from the French, Russia got lazy and sold the cash cow to us (for quite the bargain). Rumor has it some want it back now that they know it is rich with oil and snow.

The final play of the day: Russia’s foremost ambassador to SIT has come-up with an impressive solution to the problem of useless American land. Sell Nebraska to Mexico. Ingenious play by Russia as it leaves America fumbling for a Mexican joke or comeback every time Hola or Amigo is used to breach a conversation. Russia also seems to be employing the tactic of fatigue and subsequent submission through repetitive reference and good, old-fashioned bull-headedness. For now they take the lead with this winning play. However, their efforts could backfire if the joke becomes old. Or if Mexico really does occupy Nebraska and a multitude of complications arise. For example: Will a passport be needed to return home? Will former Nebraska citizens need to learn Spanish? Will the coveted, bland Mexican-American (TexMex) food be made into too-spicy, authentic South-of-the-border comida? And will we need to build a wall in the middle of the country?

Stankonia

Today at the gym, while struggling through sprints on the tred mill, an offending odor disrupted my heavy breathing. For a brief moment I was transported to a Hungarian sweat dungeon where middle-aged men with pot-bellies performed squats in their Speedos. But let's not relive those days. As the odor persisted, I divined to find the source. My neighbor to the left was a scraggly gentleman with an unkempt beard and amateur exercise attire (such as Keds for running shoes and wool socks). On my right was a petite women with a bouffant hair-do making a noble attempt with those little legs at a serious run. Let's be honest. This is Brattleboro, Vermont. A place where views on the boons of pheromones and the ills of showering most likely mirror Europe's. It could have been either one of these people. However, eager to address the unhappy circumstance, my sure-fire snap judgment placed the blame squarely on the man (most often the perpetrators of pungent aromas). I commenced my all-powerful glare and envisioned his shifty foot-work and consequent tumble into the wall behind. However, when the man left, the problem did not. Confused but unshaken, I reassured myself that I had merely misjudged and crinkled my nose at the little stink-bomb to my right. When my run was finished, I high-tailed it to the locker room, only to notice that the smell had followed me, while the woman had not.

I think there's a lesson here folks: Sometimes, the smell may be you.

Rule of Close-ups

Taking pictures of objects at close range means I can marginally pass them off as art.

Fortune

Doesn't this generally mean we're screwed?

Fur for the Poor?

This is a real fur coat. Notice how I’m not throwing buckets of red paint on it or my unsuspecting friend. This coat is from Turkmenistan, as is the now deceased owner of it’s skin. Turkmenistan is bordered by Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Iran and the Caspian Sea. It was once part of the former USSR. Its biggest boon is a hydrocarbon/natural gas reserve that remains relatively untapped. Their Stalinesque dictator has just died, however his giant gold statues and ubiquitous, jeering, Big Brother posters remain. There is no central heating in most Turkmeni homes. While it is a desert, it does get lip-chapping, finger-numbing frigid in the winter, with temperatures dropping to -20F. Often the more fortunate Turkmen warm their apartments with their oven. 58% of the population lives below the poverty line. Malnutrition is a common ill. When the above lady worked in this country, she would often walk in on her teaching colleagues with streaks of white powder across their lips and a shamed look in their eyes. Sometimes women unknowingly eat chalk because they lack adequate levels of iron. Back to the coat. All parts of the animal were used in the making of this apparel. As a meal or whatever it is people do with animal intestines. Under these circumstance, I’m pretty much O.K. with this fur.

Ode to Sex in the City

Is their any physical act that comes unattached to sentiment? From kissing my roommate to copulating with a man I know my friend desires, recreating a weekend with an ex boyfriend I swore never again to lusting after a known playboy, entertaining fantasies and flirting shamelessly with a man I love who I know doesn't love me back to coupling with a person who's already part of a couple, repeatedly pulling a gay man (or two) to contemplating the same with a woman, I seem to seek out indecencies that are often frowned upon. Or some might even say, self-destructive. While the experiences leave me stressed and regretful in the morning, there's an energy, almost like a high, that urges me to do it again. When these acts are laid bare, they seem to rise up from the page like the shaking, disappointed face of my mother. But if physical acts always come with a bevy of emotion, then whether it's me reeling from them or the next person, it's going to happen sooner or later, right?