Derpy Sluttyev, or how shall I call this...
Motto:
mp_en_viaje: aand hello from derpy ukraine.
diana_coman: lolz, what did the ukr do?
diana_coman: or, most likely, not do
mp_en_viaje: it's basically greater timisoara,
somewhat larger, somewhat more decrepit, ~same really.
Might as well go into detail, huh.
Above, the immigration queue. Kiev has the tiniest airport that ever graced a rural community of about 50 thousand or so souls -- the whole thing is like three rooms and their respective corridors.
Yet nevertheless, in spite of minuscule traffic, they manage to produce queues!
Depicted above, just about the entire contents of a mostly full 200-seater ; the Ukrainian immigration process produced a monstruous queue almost worthy of say Istanbul, a place where 2-5k people land every ten minutes. This because... well... derpystan hasn't figured out how to use multiple booths yet! The booths are physicaly there, whoever was contracted to build this mini-airport thing did understand how airporting goes in principle ; but... the having's not quite enough, not by itself. Gotta also use. And... well...
On top of everything else, they take 5minutes+ per random traveller ; most everyone is out of there in ~15 seconds, but then some people go through at the rate of ten per hour. Thus after sitting in the queue for a boring ten minutes or so during which it scarcely moved two feet, I was just about ready to throw a hissy fit -- demand to see the whoever the fuck is in charge and thunderbolt my finest at him. But then... the queue starting moving, and Hannah's prediction (~fifteen minutes) was satisfied to the minute. What happened ?!
What happened is complicated, but typical : after the Russkis came in with the rape&fucksticks, whatever was left of the Derpistanis decided to show them!!! and so created an insane process with fingerprinting and complicated paperwork, to be applied to Russian nationals only. It didn't occur to them however to also separate "Russian national" from "Foreigners" queues, so that everyone non-Russian could admire live before their eyes how much and how deeply it sucks to be Russian (according to the Ukrainian immigration authorities), which'd be pretty much the only way they'd actually collect the downstream benefit of their action.
Instead of this, Derpystan deemed it right and proper to simply have me wait in line behind some Russian that'll take forever. I don't know whether the tall chick in front of me is Russian or Lebanese (ok, I could venture a guess, but still), all I notice is that the process randomly takes either seconds or minutes, which of course pisses me off, but it pisses me off at the Ukrainians as the obvious guilty party. Thus instead of gathering the actual benefit of their anti-Russian legislation, in the shape of me pointing and laughing at the tall chick stuck somewhere way behind (and her getting butthurt from being laughed at by all the affluent foreigners -- pretty much the only thing that can penetrate the Ru-grade thick skull, now as in 1719), they just end up with a buncha pissed off non-Russian foreigners on their hands (and a buncha Russians confirmed in their belief that Ukrs are too stupid to live, and if given a gun will shoot own foot).
I delve into detail here because it is deeply illustrative -- this is quite what I mean by derpy, and it's systematically and throughout repeated, reconstructed and universal in Ukraina.
Yet the (very comfortable, and quite well placed, and well managed and well run) hotel has... door keys! They can't give you multiples, though ; and the rooms contain two forks and two spoons. Why save on that ? Well...
Nothing reminds me more of the clubs in the good old days, back when the world still worked, than this balcony. Sit and watch the titsea undulate beneath, pick what you want.
What, you think I'm kidding ?
Here's a metro station. The metro is inconvenient, labyrintine, ill lit and ill signalled, overfull and in numerous details shockingly reminiscent of Buenos Aires. Which I suspect is not at all a spurious similarity -- they're both "countries" of "nations" of orcs that wish to present white being maintained into some semblance of credibility by free Euro money, such as is available.
The locals are peculiarly cute about this, too. They go about self-advertising to each other among themselves a putative belief that they'll actually be allowed to join the EU, at some point in the future! And furthermore, that this "joining" will, somehow, conceivably make some sort of difference.
You know, the limp-dick European Union that didn't take Turkey back in the 2000s, when Turkey wanted to and the EU could've, conceivably, absorbed it. The sad, hopeless European Union that meanwhile completely fucking bankrupted itself, and all but ensured an enduring foray into the inconsequential with morons like May, Merkel and the rest of the oldwoman orchestra at the helm. That EU will... let Ukraina join. How the fuck ? Look at a map sometime, seriously now, how is this supposed to work ?
Do you know what there isn't any of, for a three mile radius around that picture ? Convenience stores. There's nothing like a 7/11, there's nowhere to buy a thing of milk, or even a bottle of water. Just little bistros and knick-knack stores and assorted nonsense as far as the eye can see, what, you might want to not have to transport a pound of carrots five miles ? But... but... that wouldn't be derpy enough!
So, an Europe that increased its "households with no running water" per capita figure by a degree of magnitude (and its "schools with no running water" per capita figure by two or so degrees of magnitude) when it let Romania join (and never fucking recovered, nor ever will) is going to... what exactly, build the missing ten trillion instances of ten thousand different things that inexplicably aren't here ?
How ?! Just fucking... how ?!
That's a "local homebrew alcohol" paddle. Guess who got paddled with it ?
By the way, from left to right : almost excellent, utterly horrible, best excellent, most excellent, kinda horrible and somewhat dubious. Guess who made the classification ?
Above : upon trying mystery murky drink #2.
Below : upon my announcement that this is now an official harem punishment drink. Notice the female tendency to seek support in each other. Womens' styles are more co-operative, as they say.
I'm picking up a book!
There's a lot of ye olde sovok memorabilia and nostalgia items about ; both in this particular venue and throughout the country in general. Though I suspect you've perhaps already noticed.
Yes, the word "Penthouse" is scribbled on that sad brownstone tenement, fit to head the fleet of the proudest slumlord. Go ahead and ask me again, "derpy how ?", why not, I'm here all night.
Some kind of subteranean entrance ; honestly I've never seen holes this fucking oppresively sad anywhere besides maybe bucharest.
We're ahem. I might be taking the real harem out to check out that putative penthouse harem later. We see.
Iconographic confusion. What's the letter M really mean, anyways ?
But, enough of the day, time to move into the night. A night during which my cock has been in so many eager, youthful mouths I lost tracki. This is no kind of rhetorical exageration ; at one illustrative point I still remember, after taking a piss I turned away from the toilet and into the hallway, cock in hand, so my slave can lick it clean (why use more paper than one has to, amirite ?). This nearby slut we hadn't even talked to yet (but who was hopefully eighteen, I guess ?) pounced on her and sucked the salty right out of her mouth. Hawt!ii
I say the world needs more parties like that, and more toilet lines like that at parties like that.
I'm tempted to call this the metawhorsosis. Doesn't it have a certain ding to it ?
Bimbo whorganizing the show.
The sluts were some of the star attractions of the fetish party, I'm really good at caning them and they're really good at being canned by me, so there was a lotta applause and such. Go sluts!
This is a sushi joint, which wasn't merely open at four in the morning ; it had its happy hour!!! then. Can you believe this shit ? I know of no place in this world, not fucking Boston, not fucking New York, not fucking anywhere you have such party infrastructure at the ready.
Are you fucking kidding me, restaurants ready to go for when you're done drinking ? Sushi ? Tom Yam ?! Holy shit I'm in love!!!
Pretty cool and comme il faut, neh ? Yet on the other hand...
This is Ukraina. I can't say I don't like it ; but it sure as fuck can get pretty infuriating a tratti.
———- This, as of Saturday morning, mind you. I landed here Friday evening.
Meanwhile I finally managed to wash most of the lipstick and eyeliner potpourri offa it (no small feat, some of that waterproof shit can be hard to remove), yet I still can't produce anything like an accurate count.
Ukraina, still holding the slut crown of braided hair and flowers up higher than everyone. [↩]
- I know this "sounds incredible", but the thing with public sex is... I have witnesses! [↩]
Sunday, 28 July 2019
The slut makeup residue is primarily a problem 'cause nobody wants c0k and "removal solution" goin' together!
Meanwhile in Ro/Arg parallels, I discovered Kiev suffers from the "no change for a ten-spot" problem. Even at the long-trek inconvenience store.
Sunday, 28 July 2019
Soap will do it, if one's patient.
Which, allegedly, one can't be while rubbing it ; except, of course, in extenuating circumstances.
Wednesday, 31 July 2019
> I might be taking the real harem out to check out that putative penthouse harem later
Did just that tonight. Total orphanage deja-vu, utterly overdressed chick by the door asks me if it's my first time. They do this a lot. I return the question, "why, is it your first time ?", she completely blanks over. Cuz totally, that's what you want in your strip club frontwoman, cold, hard ineptitude. That'll sell.
Next she informs me that it's 500 grivna for me and 800 for the girls. Each. I ask her what the hell is she thinking, she explains it's because it's gentleman club. This makes sense, somehow, in the ball of twisted twine apparently lodged in her skull. I ask what do I get for that much (which adds up to like a hundred bucks, ie it's serious fucking money in this sad hole, where the smallest bill is worth ~4 cents), she's quite hapy to say "oh, nothing". So as I'm turning around I bark a "congrats, you've sold it" in her general direction and that's that.
Somebody should get Florida on the wire, talk them out of the $5 cover for males only, good for two drinks and a lapdance, switch over to $4`500 cover good for nothing instead, like the empty-clubs-professionals of Kiev & co. Purchase power parity for the win, why the hell not!
For the record, a hundred dollars buys you a pair of co-eds for the whole night, especially on a fucking Tuesday. I have no fucking idea how this dumb shit stays in business, but it's probably all the moronic "computer scientists" come from India to crowd Eastern Europe. Get a life, Pradesh.
Wednesday, 31 July 2019
That wasn't at Harem, that was the other one, across from where we tried to have coffee and they brought half the order like they fucking do here, so half the customers can watch the other half watch them back awkwardly over slowly cooling coffee.
Here it was "This is strip club" "Why are you dressed then" and she completely blanks over.
Somehow the "hm, if I took off some of the skirts I wouldn't have to keep telling people what I identify as" thought just never occureed to her.
Wednesday, 31 July 2019
By Greguar, I think you might be right!
Wednesday, 31 July 2019
That sounds actually very... Romanian-commerce style: we'll charge the few idiots we get a LOT for nothing at all because anyway having customers is rather too much work and look, great profit!!
Wednesday, 31 July 2019
Kiev is so like classical Bucharest you can't begin to imagine. The cab driver thinks "you are very exclusive foreigner, not like other tourists" ; just as I'm about to retain his business card, seeing how his English is less terryfingly bad than the average local, he charges me 200 grivnas (about 8 bucks) for a three dollar's ride. "Expensive" I say, and "A little," he retorts. Cuz he's so clever, see. As we walk out of the wanna-be strip club he's coming upstairs, no doubt to collect his other five dollars, for "having brought custom". I laugh at him, he pannicks, gets back into the elevator (of course only one single elevator, luxury, see, bukresh style) and "do we want go other place, no extra charge ?"
No, we do not, we slither thought bunches of expensive Western cars they absolutely can not afford mispparked in the way all around that sad stottery. Who knows, perhaps I might be impressed ? Real men & serious businessmen of great import driving black Mercedes ? Yes ? Yet the whole place stinks to high heavens : when it rains, the water flushes the rotting, decaying filth from ditches and gutters and sewage drains, mixing it into the sidewalk grime ; there's garbage everyhere in luxuriant, impossible combinations, and an abundance of olfactively impossible garbage trucks moving about during all the wrong times of the day. There's strange miasmas suddenly overtaking whole blocks for no obvious cause. The whole thing's outright indian, rommales, bukkales.
There's ruins everywhere, of everything. Efficient utilization of resources is not merely unknown, but deeply incomprehensible to the locals. The bdsm bar is a tiny contraption across the street from this stately, three level, decaying brick building that they do not invade and repurpose, like the kids in Berlin would have done 12 times over by now. Everyone drives on the sidewalks, parks into each other's way, there's just no rhyme nor reason to their frantic if ultimately purposeless activity, and certainly no overarching considerations of efficiency or efficacity. They just block each other from everything all the time for no reason and grow flies.
Outside this one oasis of calm, well run sanity I dwell in, there's a crazed mesh of sheer fucking nonsense as far as the eye can see.
Wednesday, 31 July 2019
Re "They just block each other from everything all the time for no reason" - there is a reason and it's called capra vecinului aka they are very focused on making sure that nobody and especially nobody from among them gets ahead or manages to actually do anything of any import.
So precisely familiar that I need to calm down now.
Wednesday, 31 July 2019
The crowning glory of this idiocy having happened barely ten minutes ago, when this chick ran right past me like she's on fucking Wall Street, with half a micron to spare, only to stop dead and turn around in utter confusion. Because she's such an eel of a carreer woman she simply can not abide doing 7mph behind me, gotta pass to reach her unbridled 7.4mph potential, it's just, she's got things to do an' people to see and it's just not possible to delay!!! But on the other hand, and at the same time, she's such a fucking celenterate she can't answer as to herself, and her own movement about in the environment, for the next five fucking seconds.
And no, this is by no means a singular case, it's just fucking representative. They're fucked in the head.