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eXile - Issue #160 - Whore-R Stories - Whore-R Stories: the Sluts of Slutsk - By Mark Ames Moscow-based alternativenewspaper Search the eXile All Issues This Issue This Author This Column | Advanced Search... Email thousands of beautiful Russian Ladies! Home | Archive | Club Guide | Restaurant Guide | Songs | Field Guide To Moscow | Political Trading Cards | About Us Browse Column (19) Previous (1) Next (17) Whore-R Stories: the Sluts of Slutsk By Mark Ames ( editor at exile ru ) Browse Author (147) Previous (54) Next (90) I n the last issue, I made the claim that the line between a slut and a whore in Russia is rather blurred. In this, the second installment of Whore-R Stories, I'm going to examine the other side of the equation: The Slut. What better place to test the slut-whore-equation theory than in the Belorussian town of Slutsk. I nit you shot, folks. There really is such a town, located about 100 kilometers southwest of Minsk. Ever since my first and only visit to Belarus over five years ago, the land of Europe's last dictator has always held a special place in my heart (and other organs). Minsk, after all, is where I first discovered the White God Factor. But a provincial town with a name like Slutsk must have something much more than a White God factor - say, a Big Bang God Factor ... As a professional investigative journalist and veteran explorer of the FSU's hinterlands, I knew that fate, as well as desperation, would draw me to Slutsk and, like Stanley in the Congo, I'd report the exotic findings back to my readers. Only instead of bringing back shrunken heads, I hoped to bring back carefully preserved samples of chlamydia, smuggled on my person. The two-and-a-half hour bus ride from Minsk to Slutsk cost two dollars. On the outskirts of town there is a familiar cluster of 8 and 16-story paneli, Brezhnev-era housing projects, dirty white with blue or purple stripes straight down the elevator shaft. In the center of town the structures are smaller, a mix of pre-Revolutionary two- and three-story houses painted yellow, green and pink, side by side with Soviet concrete boxes. Slutsk is run by a Saiko. Literally. The head of the Slutsk city council, with its cookie-cutter Lenin statue out front, is named Saiko. Slutsk has one hotel, aptly named "Hotel Slutsk," on the main street, Ulitsa Lenina. There was fresh blue paint in the lobby. The elevator didn't work. I was given a room on the fourth floor. A single for $33, not exactly cheap. After wandering around town freezing my ass off for most of the afternoon while trying to get noticed, I took a rest in my hotel room then headed back out. It wasn't looking good. The two top restaurants were butt empty. I found a cafe that looked promising, slut-wise. Standing outside the entrance were two women - not girls, but women - bundled in cheap fur coats and hats. They smiled as I passed, and I said hello with a pronounced foreign accent. The cafe had only two patrons. One man was slumped in his chair; his friend scowled at me, one eye open. I sat at the far end and ordered 150 grams of cheap cognac. Just then, one of the women from outside the cafe entered, walked towards and then passed me, turned to leave, then turned around a second time and said to me, "We feel sorry for you being alone. Would you like to join us somewhere else?" "Sure," I said. "Meet us outside." She walked out. I downed as much of the cognac as I could take and asked the bartender, an aging woman, "Are all Slutsk girls this friendly?" "Only if the person is from out of town," she answered. I joined the two women outside the door. "That cafe was horrible, we couldn't even stand being in there," said the one who'd rescued me. Her name was Olga, and the other one was her younger sister, Yulia. They told me that there was a much better caf down the street with a better crowd. They were waiting to join a friend of theirs, Alla. We powerwalked along the ice as best we could to the next cafe, called V Dalee ot Zhyon, or Far Away From The Wives. It was crowded, packed mostly with young banditibees in black leather coats. A few had young girlfriends on their arms, cute ones too. Alla stood at the counter and ordered: a carafe of vodka, four crab and mayonnaise salads, sliced ham, bread, Sprite, and a bottle of Medvedovskaya Krov wine for Olga. Adding two more vodka carafes and other goodies, the whole bill came to nine dollars. I sat next to Olga, who told me that she'd spent the whole past week inside her apartment and that today, she'd decided to go out with her sister and Alla. I didn't really get a good look at Alla yet. Her face was either hidden in a full fur hood on the street, or she was at the bar giving endless orders. It wasn't until she took a seat directly across from me that I literally yelped, knocking into the table: her face looked exactly like the possessed witch in Army of Darkness, the same long shock of silver hair, a gray complexion, gnarled nose and a mouth full of metal teeth: "You shall never get the necronomicon! We shall feast upon your sooooooul..." I had to drink fast. It was clear that I was supposed to be paired up with Olga, who was passably attractive despite the complex wrinkles around and under her eyes. I stole glances at the mini-mafia molls, wondering to myself why I, considering my White God Factor, was stuck with a bunch of old hags, and whether I should try my luck elsewhere. But there was no elsewhere. Olga was thirty-three years old. She told me she'd been to Poland many times, and had recently been to Moscow. Her sister Yulia was twenty-seven. She was one of three sisters and two brothers in the family. I asked Yulia if all Slutsk families were so big, five children, not exactly the norm in modern Russia. "Yeah, we're all like this. I know a family of ten. There's nothing else to do." Yulia said she'd worked for six years as a dancer at Stary Zamok, the town's top restaurant. I assume that meant she was a whore, if the distinction matters. She seemed both proud and unhappy about having been a dancer there -- "It's the best restaurant in Slutsk" -- after six years, she had nothing to show, and now she worked in a factory. That's how she met Alla. Alla told me that the owners of the cafe respected her because just the night before, she'd found her "man" there with three other women and she beat the shit out of him and one of his lovers who hadn't managed to escape. "I beat him unconscious," she said, brandishing her fist and laughing. "You shouldn't mess with me. That bastard. I did everything for him. I worked and put a roof over his head, and he goes and takes three lovers." None of this was helping my mojo: aging women, a haunt who doubled as a man-beater, images of Alla having sex with some unemployed, salo-fattened prole, and him with his three lovers... Alla told me she'd once beaten the shit out of Yulia. That's how they became friends. Yulia lived in the same podezd as Alla. And Yulia carried on an affair with Alla's then-boyfriend. Alla found out, stalked Yulia, and stomped her. After that, they became friends. To prove it, they kissed like a pair of football players, smacking loudly but very un-sexually. Olga quietly emptied the bottle of Bear's Blood next to me. She was amazed that I was American. "I've known Polacks," she said. "I thought you were a Caucasian. You seemed nice and handsome, a foreigner, so I decided we should rescue you from the club." The night starts to get blurry here. I pushed myself to go on until the bitter end, to get the story. But the cheap liquor, the travel and cold suddenly put a sleeping spell on me. I remember we stumbled across the road to Stary Zamok, but it had closed early for lack of a single client -- on a Thursday night! They led me to some kind of second-floor club with a bar and a small disco. All I remember is ordering the worst pelmeni of my life, and eating it. Then stealing some of Yulia's horrific fried meat balls -- tongue meat in a brown chewy foam-like batter. I was burping up bad pelmeni meat into Olga's face as she tried to keep the mojo going. "I smell your pelmeni." "I know." "You want to sleep, don't you?" I was sound asleep in my chair for most of the rest of the evening, I mean deep REM sleep, until they mercifully decided to leave. Olga pulled me away from the other two and walked me downstairs. "You want to stay with me at my place, don't you?" she said. "Yes, I want to stay at your place," I said. She bundled me into a taxi, and I passed out again. Then awoke in the projects. We rode the elevator up to her apartment. A mountain bike blocked the door -- she moved it aside -- and in the first room next to the entry hall, I noticed the head of a young teenager, the Bobby Brady of Belarus, resting on a pillow. He told Olga that "he" had called a few times. "He" turned out to be her "man," as she called him, a Czech businessman who was part husband, part sponsor. Olga closed the door to her son's bedroom, which probably doubled as the TV room as well, and whispered to me, "My man feels that I'm with someone. Men can sense these things. You understand?" "Yeah, I understand," I said, stung, because for the most part men don't understand. She called her "man" on her phone, while I crashed on her bed, a double made out of two twins pushed together covered with a pink comforter. Olga woke me up and asked me if I wanted to take a shower. "No." She came back again what seemed like hours later with a towel. "Go take a shower," she said. I snapped the towel and lifted myself up. I couldn't pass out here. Good money had been sunk into the Slutsk expedition. And here I was, in the slut's very own habitat, as close to the kill as anyone could hope to be. The eXile's shareholders would never forgive me if I copped out now. She took her obligatory pre-sex dyev shower after seeing mine through. I kept myself awake by trying to record the details of her bedroom. It was modestly luxurious by early 90s Warsaw Pact standards. She had a gaudy pink light fixture, a kind of mini-chandelier with pink glass orchids and various blooming lamp pedals. Above the dresser mirror was a collection of German hair styling spray bottles. They must be hard to find in Slutsk -- I remember Czechs and Poles displaying their Western cans of spray and soft drinks in the early 90s. Olga also had large posters of scantily-clad women on her walls, including one in a bikini thong whose figure had been cut out from the rest of the poster and glued to the wall. When Olga returned I pounced. She wasn't what I'd expected: instead of the lumpy, smelly, sweaty body of a typical aging provincial slut, she was thin, much prettier with all her clothes off, with something of Meg Ryan's mouth (not that I like Meg Ryan) and a fashionable mom hairdo. The other surprise was how dry her snapper was. I remember what Dr. Limonov had written about older women's pussies -- "like glue" -- it was one of the reasons why he "gave advices" to "throw away older wife, get yourself young teenage girl." Her small breasts had large No. 2 pencil eraser nipples, but no matter what tricks I tried pulling out of my bag, her snapper was like cloth, like putting your fingers between worn leather cushions on an old couch. "It's been so long since I've been with a man," she told me. I tried to close the deal, but it wasn't working. "I'll get some cream," she said. She stood up and opened a drawer in her dresser. God knows how I managed to maintain wood during this -- I'm not happy about it, believe me. She squirted some cream into her hand and worked it into her gluey snapper. That made things marginally better. Finally I worked my way in. But for all my effort I didn't get much pleasure and nothing close to an orgasm. I passed out after - maybe five minutes, maybe thirty, maybe an hour, I really have no idea. Early the next morning I awoke with a rancid hangover and a mouth nearly as dry as her pussy. The neighbors upstairs were stomping around. "Let me put on some music," she said. She played some kind of Italian pop cassette on her box. "I've had a problem with my neighbors ever since I moved here," she said. "They don't work. They're both alcoholics. They wake up every morning at six and stomp around loudly. It used to be worse. They'd put on some kind of hard soles and stomp loudly on their wooden floor. I called the militia on them. It only made them angrier. So I went upstairs and demanded that they not wake me up at 6am. I screamed. They're a couple, in their forties, with a 16-year-old boy. They were rude, so I forced my way in and beat the hell out of both of them. They were so drunk, and I was angry. Alla's not the only one - I can do that too." It was hard to imagine Olga like Alla -- in the morning she appeared, in spite of her sandpaper snapper, even prettier. "I bought them carpeting. They took it. It's much better now, but it's still unbearable, isn't it?" "It's pretty loud," I agreed. It was hard to imagine that there was carpeting muffling their shoes -- it must have sounded like a construction site before. "I tried everything. I tried being nice. I brought back chocolates from Brno when I visited my man. The 16-year-old upstairs loved them too much. He called me a later and said, 'Those chocolates were so good. If you don't bring me more of those chocolates soon, I'm really going to make a racket upstairs, and much earlier than ever.'" "You should have told him that if he ever threatened you again, he'd never see another Czech chocolate in his life," I said. "I did. I told him, 'Who the hell do you think you are, you little bastard?! I should come up there and tear you to pieces. You're threatening me?! Forget the chocolates! If I ever see you..." " -- Okay, I see," said, interrupting her. These Slutsk girls...someone should hustle them in mud wrestling competitions. I asked her about her "man." They'd met a year and a half ago. She took a job in a factory in Brno, working on a line, tying ribbons around packages of paper napkins. "I had financial difficulties, I had to find work," she said. The owner of the factory walked the floor one day and spotted Olga. "He saw me, pulled me off the line, told me he didn't want to subject me to such work ever again, and said he'd fallen in love. Just like that. I wasn't so sure. He's almost 50. He's an older man, with a stomach." So I'm not the only one acting out Count Tolstoi fantasies. The Czech understood the true advantage of running a sweatshop using cheap Slavic labor: that stroll down the factory line, inspecting the women workers, rating them, fantasizing about how desperate they are, and finally, choosing whichever one he wanted to "rescue," acting out some 19th century European fantasy. "He wants me to move to Brno, but I don't want to," Olga said. "My son, I want him to stay in school here. He also wants me to move to Moscow, where's he's considering opening up another factory. Assembling furniture and other stuff. I went to Moscow with him a few months ago. There's a Czech mafia in Moscow. We all went out for dinner and a long night at the casino: me, my man, the Czech mafia and the local Russian mafia who would be the krysha for his factory. At the end of the night, most of them had left their phone numbers in my purse. I was so surprised when I saw what they'd done. Of course I didn't tell my man. It would just upset him." Olga had married and birthed her son when she was nineteen. Her first husband was an Army type and a loser. He always wanted to punish the boy. They divorced after five years. The boy didn't want to see his father -- he was happy to have him out of his life. The father moved to Minsk. They saw each other once every year or two. Olga's own family were sluchyaninie on her mother's side, Siberians on her father's. Her grandmother told her about the Nazi occupation of Slutsk. "Most of the time the Nazis were okay. My grandmother and grandfather lived out in their dacha. The Germans would come back and say, 'Ekks!' They wanted eggs and food. My grandma said they were polite and paid for everything. Then they went crazier. Once they locked up as many people from the village as they could fit inside a barn and set it on fire. My grandmother heard the screams." "Wasn't Slutsk a Jewish town before the Nazis came?" "Yes, there were many Jews here. The Nazis killed all of them." "Are there any left?" "Not that I know of." Her parents both worked in the railroads. Her father was a signal man. Now he's an invalid. About two years ago he'd injured his leg badly in a railroad track accident and didn't get proper treatment for it. Being the hardy peasant type, he didn't complain as it got worse. Then it turned green and black. "He got gangrene. They had to amputate it. Now he doesn't want to live. He tells me that he wants to die and not be a burden to us. The gangrene may have spread to his other leg. He may have to have it amputated soon." I asked about Belorussian medical insurance, the one I was forced to purchase through the hotel as a tourist. "Ha! What medical insurance! You're on your own here. Actually the burden is all on my shoulders. Everyone barely survives. My man helps out a lot. It's one reason why I'm with him. He's good for my son, for my family. He helps with so much." Issue In #160 20 Feb 03 (2 years, 10 months old) Also in this Issue Adventures in Real Estate byMichaelAndrews It's getting towards the end of the month, and since my rent comes due, it's time to step up the search... Tapochki "A Health Threat" -Ministry Russia's Health Ministry finally admitted that "tapochki," or slippers, do not help to illnesses... Your Letters SIC! A TOTAL DUMBSHIT... FELCH-AN-HOUR... PLAYING WITH DONG... NECKING... DORK-U-MENTARY... Remedial Slander: Bhutan A low-oxygen entry taking up one-eighth cranial page... The Two Faces of Fred: A Journalistic Moral Tale Press Review byPhilbyBurgess Journalists are wonderful creatures in many ways, but on reflection I think it's their utter lack of self-awareness which most impresses me... Wilhelm Klink Invades Eastern-Front Real Estate Market Posing as a German consultant, we contacted Penny Lane Realty to see what it would take to get Comrade Andropov's apartment... Introducing the Schopenhauer Award! We're proud to present a new feature that will entertain and educate you, the knowledge-hungry eXhole!... Let 'Em Send Me to the Bughouse Again! Feature Story byDarZhutayev It's a quiet night here, by Shchukinskaya metro station. If you look out the window, you can see the twin towers of the swanky Aliye Parusa apartment complex... Bardak Calendar The Residents... Night Life Awards... Salvation Army Band... Slade And Sweet... Alisa... Death Porn WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY, THE MICE WILL DIE... THE BABYSITTER... NOBODY LIKES ME... MEANWHILE, IN PODMOSKOVIE... Appointments Receptionist... Maid... Personal Assistant... Driver... Security Guard... The Schmaltz Ghetto Book Review Some genres consist of one good book followed by thousands of disastrous failures... One Of Us Is Wrong Kino Korner byMarkAmes I've never gone out on a limb or exposed my hard-earned reputation to such total destruction as I will this issue... Social Awkwardness Among the Red Flags City Beat byJohnDolan Last Saturday your intrepid Ace City Beat Reporter set out for the antiwar demonstration at the American Embassy... Algeria: The Psychos Will Inherit the Earth War Nerd byGaryBrecher Some wars make it onto the TV news, and some don't. It's got nothing to do with how bloody or big they are... Fit to Print? In New York? byJakeRudnitsky It isn't every day you catch a journalist blowing their own lie. I'm talking about incontrovertible evidence, a smoking gun... Dork-A-Rama Club Review byDenisSalnikov A week ago Thursday, a group of my friends gathered at JUSTO's for sushi and cocktails... Temple's Prayers Answered Restaurant Review byKevinHooper For my final eXile review, I was invited to taste a brand new bar/pub/restaurant, TEMPLE BAR... The Medvedeva Woman byThierryMarignac The Medvedeva woman was impossible as everybody knows. She was prone to bouts of drunkedness, fits of hysteria, you name it... Set Font This feature requires JavaScript. Other Formats Printer-friendly Plain Text Email Article Email address(es): Note: Affiliate Links By buying from these merchants, you help to support and enhance our online presence. 200 beautiful RussianBrides a week! Photo galleries, personal profiles, introduction services. Travel to Russia Visa support, hotels, train tickets, tours and cruises. See your message here! Write to web_adv at exile ru Interested in advertising? Write to the_exile at mail ru "the eXile". Tel: +7 (095) 795-3376 , fax: +7 (095) 245-1415 E-mail: office at exile ru (website-related issues: webperson at exile ru )
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MySpace Quiz
www.myspace.com/morningaftershow MySpace.com | Home The Web MySpace Help | SignUp Home | Browse | Search | Invite | Rank | Mail | Blog | Favorites | Forum | Groups | Events | Games | Music | Classifieds Jeremy "I'm here for a rock show, not a talk show." Male 26 years old Victoria,British Columbia Last Login: 01/11/2006 View more pics Contacting Jeremy MySpace URL: http://www.myspace.com/morningaftershow Jeremy's Interests General Radio, Broadcasting, Media, Rock and Roll, Freedom, Nerds, Pirates, Indie Rockers, Scenester Girls, Victoria, Non Fiction, Hockey, Coffee, Walking, Rain, Time Travel, Sandwiches. Music new music, always with the new music. Movies I like movies. Groups: B.J. Sucks! Fan Club , Vancouver Islanders , SONiCs obsession with myspace , Oh My God! Its the Radio City Massacre , KINCAIDE View All Jeremy's Groups Jeremy's Details Status: In a Relationship Hometown: Coquitlam, BC Body Type: 0' 0" Sign: Capricorn Smoke / Drink: No / Yes Jeremy's Schools CENTENNIAL SECONDARY SCHOOL Coquitlam,British Columbia Grad Year: 1998 Student Status: Alumni From 1996 to 1998 Jeremy's Networking Radio - Talent - DJ I bring the noise. Jeremy's Companies The Zone @ 91-3 FM Victoria, British Columbia, CA Afternoon Show Jeremy is in your extended network Jeremy's Latest Blog Entry [ Subscribe to this Blog ] If I only spoke Russian/ I would know you and you would know me ( view more ) with every breath I wish your body would be broken again ( view more ) I might not have that long/ Ill tear my heart out/ Before I get out ( view more ) Chupa, say Chupacabra/ gunna reach/ gunna reach right out and grab ya ( view more ) Help Judith! ( view more ) [ View All Blog Entries ] Jeremy's Blurbs About me: I rock the Zone @ 91.3 everyday at 3PM PST!!! The Zone @ 91.3 Who I'd like to meet: you and The Vendors , those cats are alright. Jeremy's Friend Space Jeremy has 302 friends. Not My Gumdrop Buttons! Alex Andrea Matt Sara JAMES Tindy theset View All of Jeremy's Friends Jeremy'sFriends Comments Displaying 50 of 482 comments ( View/Edit All Comments ) Queen Janine Jan 11, 2006 12:43 PM Yeah, the end of that night is a bit blurry.. We were going to wait for you because we figured you couldnt walk home.. but the cab came and it was really windy and Rlowe told us to take it. I hope you dont get in shit.. but it was your birthday so maybe your bossman will be cool =) Next time we'll wait for you! natalie Jan 11, 2006 10:29 AM happy bday! i sent you a bday teaxt via tina. i don't have yer cell number.. that's a disgrace. anyways, her reply to my text was "baker says thw" i don't know what that means, but i think you guys were in to the sauce... maybe... Neb Jan 11, 2006 05:50 AM happy birthday buddieee. I hope you had someone bootleg the rap battle for the next CRC .. that would be of the hizook!! peace out Andrea Jan 11, 2006 12:31 AM omg Jeremy you are a big boy now!! yay!! I called the Zone to wish u a happy bday (becuz i was at work and i can't call LD from work) but you had left early!!! I chatted with Dave though...so that was fun!! Hope you win that $100!!! Love you Long time ~sister Andreaaa spaacecaase Jan 10, 2006 07:48 PM hey birfday boi! i got a present for you, its that book you leant me like a year ago...awesome hey!? hahha lets go celebrate and eat racks and racks of ribs :) cj Alex Jan 10, 2006 05:43 PM HAPPY BIRHTDAY LOVER! YAY for being 26. My sister says that's the best age. I think she stayed that age for 10 years. Guess what? I got feb 3, 4 and 5 off so i'm comming into town and we're going to see the stills. yay for our love from your g friend L M N O P friend Kaitlyn Jan 10, 2006 04:36 PM Happy Birthday Jeremy! Good Luck in the Rap Battle. Youll Rock House :) Ryan Jan 10, 2006 03:57 PM Happy Birthday! (I got you new tampons for your purse....) Ryan Jan 10, 2006 03:52 PM Alright Baker, the entire MySpace community knows about this rap battle. No Backing Down! You better lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo Karen Jan 10, 2006 02:48 PM Happy 26th Jeremy. You should see about recording yourself tonight for all of those who can't make it. alysia Jan 10, 2006 01:01 PM Happy Birthday! See you tonight! BLAZE Jan 10, 2006 12:47 PM Happy B-day, and well see you at the boom boom room rap battle. good luck. cheers Jon Sara Jan 10, 2006 12:44 PM Happy Birthday my little Hobo friend! alysia Jan 10, 2006 10:03 AM What time does this boom boom room rap battle start and what is cover? wait i think i have some VIP passes kicking around from there. I think i shall go...will be too entertaining to miss. Queen Janine Jan 10, 2006 07:28 AM Your age changed... that must mean it's Happy Birthday day!! I would so be at Boom tonight if I didnt have to work a Night shift tonight... i am this ( --this--) close to calling in sick but you know I need the cash! If I could rap I would go down there and take that $100 from you. But.. it's your birthday so I wont. If you see April there, ask her about her 12 hour marriage. I hear it's a pretty good tale. Well, smack them hoes up for me J Unit. Ill see you @ Kincaide. spaacecaase Jan 10, 2006 12:29 AM haha im not a closet fan, i will openly admit my love for ace of base oh noes, itll be broadcasted all over this nation..damnit :( lauren a Jan 9, 2006 11:05 PM Thanks for having us, Jeremy! I suck and am shy. Matt has a better radio voice anyway. We should definitely set something up! Take care. Andrea Jan 9, 2006 10:51 PM pffft you're like...so late alysia Jan 9, 2006 04:33 PM Yeah i was wondering about Boom Boom room too. That could be highly entertaining. Not that i am doubting your fine rapping abilities.. Queen Janine Jan 9, 2006 04:08 PM Are you seriously rapping at Boom Boom on Tuesday? I didnt know that was a skill of yours. Not My Gumdrop Buttons! Jan 9, 2006 10:17 AM Hey... sorry so late.... I've been living in a cave for the last week and a half... Hope you had an awesome New Year and Christmas... and thanks for putting me in your top 8... you are awesome and you so rock! Karen Jan 8, 2006 06:42 PM Last night in the box was good fun. Too bad the Salmon Kings sucked. Queen Janine Jan 8, 2006 11:07 AM Thats fantastic. It should be a good show.. uhh when is that stripper stripping? Freeway Entertainment (BC) Jan 7, 2006 08:06 PM Hey Jeremy Thank you so much for the add! We listen to you all the time. Hope you have a rockn new year, and if you know anyone who wants guitar lessons, send them our way! Peace Queen Janine Jan 7, 2006 05:41 PM Jeremy... you did not answer my question regarding Moneyshot & Kincaide. Are you coming? Ryan Jan 7, 2006 03:47 PM We'll hit all the western ghettos. Like Red Deer, and Moose Jaw, and don't forget Brandon. A guy can get shot all up in there... Ryan Jan 7, 2006 03:05 PM I'd so be your hype man, complete with massive Flavor Flav clock. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah, boyyyyyyyyyy! Mrs. Captain Morgan (zee pirate) Jan 7, 2006 02:42 PM so, I pretty much love hanging out with you and dave sawchuck, we should make that a like, normal occurence I do believe. So yeah, :) good times on perogie night, next time, we'll have dean and tristan come :) deal?? deal, and kyle said he wants to come too :):):):) so yeah, it'll be good times again, and I think next time I might pull out the camera. The K-man Jan 7, 2006 12:59 PM Hey! Thanks for rockin' me on the zone! You need some music on your page, though. But other than that, you rock! ~AMY~ Jan 6, 2006 10:05 PM Dude I had no idea u were putting me on the air.. I'm all listening to the radio and I'm like "that sounds like me!" lol I had people I don't even know coming up to me and asking me if I was on the radio.. THANKS BUD! Matt Jan 6, 2006 09:13 PM Sanober Jan 6, 2006 06:50 PM anything for you and dave...plus how could we say no to someone cooking for us. im still effing sick. this is disasterous Bailey Jan 6, 2006 03:06 PM yah, we've got P 'n P rocking out here. i believe jason added it a week or two ago. have fun at work! ♥ duct tape Jan 6, 2006 02:36 PM dude i saw you walking down cook street today. i was going to be all like yo jeremy but you had these mega headphones on and i was in a store. um yeah alysia Jan 6, 2006 01:04 PM Myspace Graphics Bailey Jan 6, 2006 12:58 PM hey! i read on adam's page that you too are digging the new People in Planes song. i'm currently in love with that song and the latest one from She Wants Revenge (tear you apart). i thought i'd share/bond...in a non-creepy way... Sara Jan 6, 2006 07:12 AM I *am* a robot. A robot from the future. A musical robot from the future, actually. They call me MusicaBot. Alex Jan 5, 2006 09:42 PM I love you the most in the entire universe. Even more that alien that visited me that night and pleased me in ways that are unmentionable... SAY WHAT?!!!! just jokin' I Jan 5, 2006 06:57 PM I'm home safely Jeremy!!! And I fixed my pictures just for you. Got some killer pics of the Hamilton Volleyball team and the "Rap Off." Well it's back to reality tomorrow... Mrs. Captain Morgan (zee pirate) Jan 5, 2006 05:50 PM I know I'm stoked about perogie night!!! wooooh!!!!! Not too many people for me..hahaha my place is bigger than yours too I think, more open and whatnot, so we can cook at the same time. I believe, Monsieur Kyle Dark has a jam session tonight :( he said maybe next time though!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So far it is: Dean, Tristan, Dave Sawchuck! ahhaah, umm, me, you and Sanober :) That's all I've got so far...lol But yeah, I'm stoked...I should clean the house..hahah J*Go Jan 5, 2006 04:35 PM You can't see it... but Im giving you a very dirty look. J*Go Jan 5, 2006 02:58 PM WHAT!?! Tell you I'm nakita's friend!?? Dude.. I met you first. Dont you even remember the epic tale of our first conversation? alysia Jan 5, 2006 02:17 PM Holy Robots....hey, wait. Does that mean SaraP is a robot? hmm....that would explain how she knows so much and can answer all those random questions. Wow, well now i know. SaraP is a robot. Qu Jan 5, 2006 12:50 PM a Zone Myspace party would be trs cool. Are you guys thinking about hosting one this year at all? Brock Jan 5, 2006 11:50 AM mmmm soup. i could go a for a soup and sammich deal right now. Blind Eye Jan 5, 2006 10:55 AM Hey man whats happenin? Check up this band blind eye, man!!! Peace. ------------------- Chris Nakita Jan 5, 2006 10:07 AM thats a nice picture. YUM YUM . eat up. J*Go Jan 5, 2006 09:35 AM *sigh* I was not listening. Next time I am home during the day Nakita and I will call and request somethin GOOD. Like.. Black Tie...or something. Foo Fighters maybe. (ps.. when I asked you to play that the first time we talk, I never heard it) Sara Jan 4, 2006 07:51 PM De Rave is on. As long as you're in. Be prepared to transcend time and space, my little baker friend. ♥ duct tape Jan 4, 2006 06:48 PM i'm ancient okay. don't judge me. :p Add Comment About | FAQ | Terms | Privacy | Safety Tips | Contact Myspace | Promote! | Advertise ©2003-2006 MySpace.com All Rights Reserved.
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