It's early in the afternoon on Monday as I write this. I'm still in my pajamas (and it's as awesome as you might imagine) because I stayed home from work today. I started feeling poorly Saturday night-- you know that feeling when you start to ache all over, even your eyes? That's how I feel. No fever though, so I'm not desperately ill or anything like that. Still, if this post turns out to be a stinkeroo, I'm totally blaming it on not feeling well. "Of course it was a unfunny post-- I was SICK when I wrote it." Hmmmm, this is an excuse that may come in handy in the future.
I know I pulled you in with the title (which were actual words spoken by the way) but first I want to share this text I sent last evening:
Do others suffer from this same problem? Insane random questions that pop up out of nowhere? At least I didn't wake up in the middle of the night with the Shinola question in my brain. I would have had to look it up on the iPad (which is always by my bed so we can listen to relaxing ocean waves -- and so I can look up random things on the internet if necessary).
Earlier today I was looking for a photo on my phone and I ran across this saved text message between me and a female family member. The conversation was back in September so I no longer remember what we were discussing regarding men and their behavior:
I don't know what magazine the Kroger masturbator was looking at -- probably something like the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Of course, people are weird so it could have been something like "Cat Fancy" or "Vegetarian Times". The magazine memory reminded me of an incident during my time in Russia (and will explain the post title).
By now, I've mentioned my dear Russian friend Natasha many times. This is what she looked like when we first met:
Natasha and I are the same age (just one month apart) and we both grew up with rather sheltered childhoods. Natasha told me she was 16 before she learned about the birds and the bees. I was younger when I learned the facts of life but still sex and men were unfamiliar territory for me even as a young woman. Natasha and I decided that at age 21 we had not seen enough examples of, how should I say this, boy parts. We decided we needed to remedy this problem. Let me remind you that this was before Internet porn, people. Still, the fall of the Soviet Union had allowed some of the evil influences of the West to infiltrate the country. Near one metro station a bunch of kiosks had sprung up selling porn magazines on tables. So one time Natasha and I start looking at these magazines to see if we could find any with with photos of naked men in them. I have to mention here that we stuck out like a sore thumb, since all of these kiosks were staffed by men and the clientele was nothing but men. And us. The magazines we looked at were very tame. Natasha called it erotica, which is what it was. Finally, as we went from table to table, Natasha started asking, "Excuse me-- do you have erotica or pornography for sale?" I remember the looks on the faces of these men were just shocked. One guy didn't say anything at first but looked the two of us over and finally said, "Come here around back and I'll show you some pornography". We declined because it was obvious he wasn't talking about magazines. In the end we found nothing. So on my next trip to Russia I brought a Playgirl magazine for Natasha to have. I remember I felt kind of nervous bringing in in my suitcase because the customs rules at that time still prohibited Bibles and pornography. Which always seemed like a weird combination to me. I wondered what would happen if I came to Russia with a suitcase full of Bibles and porn and which item would get me in more trouble. The Playgirl must have been a Christmas issue because it had a centerfold of a man dressed in a Santa suit. Which he removed. I always remember a shot of the guy with only a Santa hat on his head and his legs spread wide apart. Natasha looked at him and said, "Now that's a Santa Claus".
I'm the worst kind of asshole-- I think I'm funny.
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