Issue #29/110, Feb 22 - March 6

By Dr. Dan Higgins
    
PHI DELTS RULE! That is the unofficial result of that fucking poll up on the website. We all know that's the way it would be if it weren't for some fucking crazed fundamentalist lezbo with a fucking 'fro in each pit sitting spread eagle in front of her supercomputer, firing off vote after vote. You reading, baby? Shit, your computer probably is all fucked up from the combo odor of rotten fish and fungal legions that seeps out of your acid hippy twat. But fuck that. I mean, this is Russia. Polls are never clean. Cleaner than your fucking cunt, but still. Shit, I should sit that fucking pole up that fucking carpet licker's puttie. Fire this, bitch.
     That's right. Higgins is still here, and Phi Delts still fucking rule! Do you hear me?
     But enough of that fucking shit. I got my job to do. That's right-MY job. This week, I was hitting the town early. I mean, I decided to check out that fucking ex-pat meeting point at the BOAR HOUSE on Wednesday.
     We all know the Boar House is the stop of last resort. When you are wasted and alone at 5 in the morning and need a ho to go home with. But what the fuck is the Boar House in the evening? Do they really give out free beer seven to nine every Wednesday? More importantly, if you pick up a chick there, does that mean you have to pay for the bitch's drinks all night long? These are questions that needed to be answered.
     For the sake of honest journalism, I admit I am predisposed to think that the organizers (the ex-pat site) are a bunch of pansy-ass cock monkeys. Fuckers threw me off their list for no fucking reason. They were too busy giving each other fucking enemas to even fucking tell me why.
     But that bullshit aside, this fucking meeting shit sucked. It was packed like the Boar House always is, but whores and bitches were lacking.
     Chicks that were there were all either fucking secretaries who see fucking foreigners every fucking day or American hogs. I have no fucking exotic qualities in these bitches' eyes. And the fucking guys in suits might once have been brothers, but you wouldn't know from the look of them. I mean, its fine to work in a fucking tie, but in a fucking bar, man?
     Maybe it all would have been different if there wasn't a fucking huge fucking line for the beer so you could at least get fucking wasted. But there was. So I got the fuck out of there. I mean, if you are going to give out free beer, you better be ready to serve a lot of folk.
     Anyway there was this new fucking bowling place MANEZH opening up in that underground shopping mall by the Kremlin. So I had no reason to wait an hour for a fucking free beer when they would give me whatever the fuck I wanted and fucking fast at Manezh. Fuck em.
     They invited me to check out some fucking opening party and watch some models bowl. Real fucking models. So it sounded pretty good to me. I mean I sometimes go to bars just to watch that fucking Fashion TV and wait for some slut with a see-thru shirt to strut onto the screen.
     But that isn't what I fucking got. I mean, there were fucking young models and shit but the layout of the alleys is all fucked up. There is nowhere to watch from behind as they wiggle their anorexic asses under the weight of those heavy balls.
     So you're stuck watching everything from the side, which sucks. And there is nothing worse than watching bimbos bowl when you can't yourself. Fuck that. There were only a few lanes and a bunch of faggots from MTV were bowling against the models, so I didn't get to toss a single fucking ball.
     All in all, this fucking Manezh pretty much reminded me of a fucking Chucky Cheese with a bar. It had that fucking overused bland chrome look to it and a shitload of those big screen videogames. Instead of bowling I played some fucking air hockey and some basketball shit (I hold the fucking record!) They've got a bunch of pool tables too, but what the fuck. I mean, it's a fucking kiddy club.
     I'm all for kiddy clubs, but there wasn't anyone there to fuck. I mean, it isn't a place you go to get wasted and dance and find a school-age girl to fuck. Maybe that's just cause its fucking new, but this place probably won't ever be a place to find a Natasha. Too fucking sterile.
     If I had smoked a fatty first I might have liked it more, just sit back and play some games, you know? But as it was I didn't even fucking stick around for many free drinks. I didn't even get fucked that night. And there was certainly no manezh a troises. The title was just a little word play.
     But fuck it. There is always next week. I still got my job, cause majority rules. And Phi Delts still rule!