Hot Girls

When I started this blog, I thought of doing sarcastic posts from a girl’s perspective. I’ve lost that somewhere between the sex ed and the infamous phalloimitators. Plus, I am extra busy this week, so I’ll post something that doesn’t require too much editing.

So, being married has lots of pluses. One of them is having male friends. I could never have boys that are friends, because our honest talks and midnight giggling on the phone always ended up with the dreaded “you have beautiful eyes” dialogue. Great, now I sound like I am bragging.

Being off-limits opens a new demographic for me: boys. Especially, husband’s friends. They are 100% harmless. One time, in Batumi my husbands friends and I discussed girls for 3 days. And finally found out what guys are thinking. At least those ones.

Also, I highly recommend Neil Strauss’ The Game (especially if you are a boy and you can’t get girls). Made me emphasize with the male population.

So, those guys in particular wanted nice-looking girls. Not great-looking (aha! Are they intimidated?) nice and, as they say in Georgia, “movlili”. Meaning, she’s taking care of herself. Meaning she goes to salon, waxes her eyebrows, spends evenings chatting with a nail lady and knows what looks good on her.

Two years ago, I told my hubby that new generation of Geo girls look hot. We were observing them in a Batumi park. He answered: “ No. They just learned how to take care of themselves”.

I’d like to add: they can take care of themselves, because they finally have jobs. They can afford to spend money on their Gucci’s. And this is where my liberal-minded readers sigh and tell me: “you too Brutus?! We thought you were above that petty, bourgeois, shoe-buying attitude!”

I object to female objectification. But is it wrong to improve physically, to try and look better? I mean, we have no problem when a person tries to improve intellectually, so why can’t he/she progress physically?

This dualism is bullshit. I want to reach perfection in every aspect of my life. A priori, I know that I won’t. But trying enhances me. Is this vanity or is this harmony with own self, own body?

Observe this chain: if girl is “movlili”, she is confident, if she is confident, she’s called a bitch. Or people think that she’s stuck up. But nobody thinks that a confident man is a bitchy slut. No! He’s a go getter and a an achiever. He has a competitive nature. Blah!

In the end, I refuse to be forced in categories. Nerdy smart or dumb beautiful. I am neither very smart, nor exceptionally beautiful. But just as I am reading --- (insert something pretentious-sounding), so I am prancing around in heels and a short skirt.

Girls are hot! Deal with it!

What The Hell Are We Building?

Imagine, you hear the airplanes, you look up but you can’t see them. You are haunted by that sound. You go into the basement, you hide under the car, you run, but it does not matter where you go, when the bomb gets dropped on you. So, you squeeze on a tractor with ten other people. And you leave it all. You are an IDP and this is August 2008.

Imagine that your home was burned. Just like that, burned. And everything in it was burned. Everything you bought, collected, valued.

Imagine that you've spent 4 months in the kindergarten, sleeping on a mattress, on a desk. They promise you a house. So, you get a little cabin, most of the necessities. You’re getting money and produce at first. Flour, pasta. They even give you a TV.

And then…you find out that the roof is leaking, that the walls are perpetually wet and that the floor has holes in it. You get pneumonia. Almost everyone in your family gets pneumonia. They give you a plot of land, but you can’t work on it, cause you’re sick. It sounds like a crappy melodrama, but you’re an IDP and this is January 2009.

And then, time passes, the walls get wetter, the holes get bigger, the food stops coming. PTSD catches up. Nobody cares about you, all the journalists, media, foreign help, NGO’s, everything is gone. The war is not interesting anymore. You’re an IDP and this is November 2010.

And then, you turn on TV and see this:

Flickering video. The track is a song written 7 years ago, during the rose revolution. Words go like this: “if we sing the same song together, we will build a house”.

The video goes on, and they show all the new shit erected in Georgia, mainly in Tbilisi, all the new, expensive, useless, worthless shit and the song, the song by a folk-rock-kinda singer that I liked, this song pours out of my TV, out of your TV, out of TVs the IDPs that watch it in their one-bedroom house! How could you, all the revolutionary, undergroundy artists, how could you sell yourselves?! Are you guys just getting old? Is that it? You were lying to us, you were lying to us, when you stood along those people, the people who promised us gold, but built us shiny, glittery bridges! How long can we stand this fakeness? Why doesn’t anyone mention that right now, people are living in card houses? One storm and those cabins will fall apart!

Oh, they will pay suitcases of Euros to famous singers, for a free concert in Batumi, they will spend a fortune on their own residencies, hotels and bridges, they will force everyone in the country to sing the same song and they will build, we will build, damn it, we will built all together, using our money, and finally, when all is sang and built, there won’t be anyone left to live in the house!

HOW TO USE THE PHALLOIMITATOR

This post is an answer to the recent “Asaval-Dasavali” article which claimed that TLG teacher Thomas Fletcher came to Georgia solely to teach Georgian children how to put dildoes in their mouths.

As I have recently learned from a very respectable newspaper, “Asaval-Dasavali”, the sole reason of foreign English teachers in Georgia is to draft our children in sects and teach them “lessons in homosexuality”[1]. Furthermore, the article said that after a while children will start holding “phalloimitators” (meaning dildoes) instead of pens and pencils in their tiny hands![2]

So, Georgians, wake up! The article is predicting future! We are not included in this new kind of knowledge! “The aim of this government is evolution of new kind of generation”[3], the one that knows how to use phalloimitators! Do you know how to utilize them? That’s awful! Neither do I!

I look in my crystal ball and I see Georgia in 20 years. A potential employee comes to a job interview. Instead of asking whether he knows English and Computer (Duh, everybody knows that shit now!), an employer asks him if he knows how to use a phalloimitator!

I see another picture. My boss approaches my office slowly, with an evil grin on his face. “Pasumonok”, he says, “Do you know how to operate an average phalloimitator and what is your experience in sects and homosexuality?” Desperately, I try to mumble something in my defense: “I’ve been to a gay Georgian’s birthday party once!”, but my boss does not buy it. Fired, I gather my things, stumble outside and jump into the Mtkvari River.

Alas, I’ve never had a phalloimitator and I am out of school, so TLGs won’t teach me “lessons in homosexuality”! Does this mean that I won’t be able to blend in with the “generation with no values or morals”[4] of tomorrow?

I propose we invade LGBT fond “Inclusive” and steal their phalloimitators! Because it is an established fact that gay people have those things laying all over their homes and offices. Even their dogs have one!

I propose we hire private tutors in homosexuality and phalloimitatorism, just like we hire tutors for every subject we study in school! The degradation of Georgian nation has already started and only the people who are smart enough to get the necessary skills and abilities will survive in this battle of the fittest!

I propose we start learning now, before it is too late, and indeed, it might be too late, just look at all the TV shows and newspaper articles of the previous week, full of one word and one word only: “THE PHALLOIMITATOR”!

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[1] Should He Teach Georgian To Our Children? http://asavali.ge/asdas1_2006/2010-44/1-20.PDF

[2] All of the references are from the same article

[3] All of the references are from the same article

[4] All of the references are from the same article

Why Are Georgian Husbands Pigs?

Everyone knows that if a boy “got…mind set on you”, than it’s “ gonna take money, a whole lot of spending money…and it’s gonna take time, to do it, to do it, t do it”[1].

One of my male friends wouldn’t get a girlfriend because: “I don’t have money right now and I don’t feel like spending all of my evenings in the Acid Bar”. That was a place to take a girl back then. Tbilisi has fancier places than the Acid Bar now. Ever been to one of those lounge bars where you have to spend 200 Lari to be seated at a table?

The algorithm: she has something that he wants (ranging from a platonic relationship to matrimony) and he needs to spend money, patience and emotional resources in order to get it.

Following are the two general reactions for receiving offerings from the suitors: 1.“Conservative”: a girl receives gifts (phone calls, flowers, dinners, etc…) only from the boy she wants to date. Receiving means giving boy a hope. Such girls usually marry their first boyfriend 2. “Liberal”: beautiful girl is entitled to attention and she can go on multiple dates with multiple boys and boys have to earn the grace of her presence. Such girls usually have fun (does not necessary mean sex) in their teenage years and later they either a. marry an older rich guy b. drive one of the suitors so crazy that he does something desperate, like kidnapping.

The post is not about the girls though. The point is that no matter what girl’s response is, everybody agrees that boys have to work for their girl. That sounds romantic, right? But combined with those horrible teenage years, when self-esteem is in a negative correlation with the number of pimples on your nose, and the number of bras you open directly correlates to the money your daddy paid for your car, it eventually results in a swine-like husbands. If the girl in question was not locked up in her room by an angry muscular brother, she probably had several of such suitors. It is likely that she preferred some boys to others: she had to choose. Hence, some teenage boys were left empty-handed, bitter and humiliated.

And of course, the more suitors one girl has, the more she will attract. Thus, what you, an average pimple-covered orangutan want the most, is always hardest to get.

So, when finally, after all the fancy offerings, she is your wife, your property, what do you do to her? You make her feel miserable to repay for all the degradation she has caused you. If she does not become your wife, what do you do? You marry someone “of a second sort” and you hate her for not being that long-legged dainty thing that never paid any attention to you.

IS THE ALGORITHM FAILING?!

P.S. This is a stereotype and there are happy exceptions (see my previous post). However, I believe this is symptomatic.

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[1] George Harrison, “Got My Mind Set On You”

Soft and Fluffy LOVE

Hey there everybody, tell me, have you ever been in love?! Can't hear you! I said in love!!!

This is the seventh time I am typing a sentence. I keep typing and deleting. typing and deleting. I don't want to write a Hallmark post. But dammit, I am going to write about love and I don't care if it sounds cheesy!

So, you, in love, remember? SMS-ing all night? Coming up with clever things to say... dressing up carefully (I want to look nice, but I don't want him to think that I put an effort into it). Love letters, love poems, dates, kisses, hugs, more kisses, movies, walking, walking, walking.

Two things we did most: we walked and we drank juice/coffee/tea. Because what else can you do on a date, in Tbilisi, without paying a fortune? I mean sure, we did stuff like sneaking into the zoo at night, we watched sleeping zebra roll around in the sand, we picked spring flowers in the forest and he even serenaded me with a guitar (neighbors were amused), but very , very often we: drank juice/coffee/tea in cafe, we kissed in the park, or we walked and walked and walked. and talked and talked and talked.

Do you remember that time? Look outside! Do you see them walking? Do you see them holding hands? Are they happy? They have to be happy! Everybody has to be happy! You have to be happy, because it is there! I swear it is there and I know it! Love is there and it is soft and fluffy, like my husband.

...And so it happened that exactly 6 years and 6 months ago he kissed me for the first time and we've been doing that (well, not only that) since then!

Have you noticed that I haven't written about him on this blog? Because this is a complaining blog! He is left out by default!

How about joy for a change? Are you people with me? Let's laugh and love and feel sentimental!

Giga!!!!!!!!!!!

I always kept wondering when will this go away, what's the expiration date? People say 5 years of dating...others say 2 years of marriage...others say it's not possible altogether. But darn it, we've passed those expiration dates and you still look/taste/smell fresh! Sure, I've got cellulites now and you've gained a belly, but we also have our own home, we've paid off the credit for our bed and we've acquired a cat along the way!

Hey, everyone, the whole world! It is there, I swear, I swear, it is there, the love, the Love, Love, Love, Love, Love, it is there and it is soft and fluffy like my Giga!

On Comments and Language

People have complained…hmm... answered my complains about them not commenting...that it is impossible to leave comments to my posts. I’ll sketch a short tutorial on commenting. I bless you to debate and swear at each other on this blog, cause now, roughly 1 out of 8 visitors comments here. And out of the 7 that don’t, 5 can’t figure out how to do it. Because Blogspot sucks!

Follow me!

So, when you read the post, you click on comments, and voila, you see all the comments! Then, write your thing and click on “comment as” button.

You will encounter next options:

GoogleAccount

LiveJournal

WordPress

TypePad

AIM

Open ID

Name/URL

Anonymous

Obviously, if you have LiveJournal or other blog accounts, you know how to comment using your blog account. If you don’t have a blog account, you might still have a Google account. You might be using it for your mail (Gmail), for example. So choose GoogleAccount and proceed to sign in with your Google account and your name will appear next to your comment.

If you don’t have a Google account, try using other electronic accounts. For example, I tried using my Yahoo! account and it worked. Choose Open ID and proceed to sign in.

Finally, Name/URL option allows you to sign in from your Facebook.

If you don’t want to be known, just choose Anonymous and that’s it. I don’t moderate the comments and never will. If I hate what you’re saying, I’ll yell back at you right here on the blog J

And lastly, should I quit blogging in English and switch to Georgian? Do I come across as pretentious because of my English blog?

Is Climate change a MUTH?

For the first day of climate change week in Tbilisi, we were asked by my friend to march from Philarmonia to Parliament. She said that lots of people are coming and that we would stop the cars and make a statement. That everyone will see us marching and realize how polluted our air is. That Georgians will start recycling, stop using so much plastic bags, will start riding bikes and throw away their cigarettes. O.K. she did not say that but all of these statements have one thing in common—they are utopic!

We arrived at ten in the morning, sleepy and complaining. We expected a crowd—nobody showed up. Apparently, there is a new trend amongst Georgian people: promising to come and leaving you waiting in vain.

We were supposed to rally with the kids on bikes. They passed by, without stopping. So, we courageously started marching in the middle of the street, with cars honking at us angrily. Some environmentalists gave us booklets made of cut-down trees. Last time they gave us water in plastic bottles.

We carried a poster, stating: “Travel Smarter, Live Better”. It was confusing to the spectators and they probably thought that this was a demonstration of marshrutka drivers.

I noticed that many of the environmentalist girls rallied in high heels. It is beyond me how people can’t understand what counts as an appropriate attire for such occasions. It is a freakin environmentalist march! We are walking! And holding flags! And drinking water out of the plastic bottles! And giving out paper booklets! Put on some bio-degradable fabrics dammit!

Some important foreign guy walked along with us. Had something to do with integrating us in NATO or EU. In your dreams, Tbilisi!

Our dear mayor was waiting at the parliament. He said several sweet words about how important environment is and rode a bike afterwards. I missed that part because husband and I got tired of his talk and sprinted to the café Entree, where we sipped our coffees and ate our croissants, and lied to ourselves that we’re in a civilized city where people consume these things for breakfast. The lie was unsuccessful though, as the table was wobbly and we ended up spilling hot coffee on ourselves.

I do care about the environment. I love cute little animals and enjoy camping. I can’t do much, but I do what I can: I have a grocery bag that I use instead of plastic bags, I re-use my water bottle, I don’t litter. I will raise my kid the same way, making sure she does not throw garbage all over the place and does not abuse our cat Gaia. That’s all I can do in Tbilisi. I feel really sad for people who can contribute more, but end up rallying with no purpose. Like my friend, who wants to be an environmental lawyer, though such word combination does not exist in Georgia.

P.S. I opened the booklet. It said: “Climate change…it is not a muth, it is reality”. Sadly, it is.