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Club Review September 22, 2006
Duma Session
By Hannah Katz Browse author

I'm getting really sick of letters calling me a slut. I know, I know, what should I expect from a bunch of small peckered Ames wannabes? The same pigs who think it's totally fine to read about guys paying for sex in the eXile write me saying that a girl that wants a little lovin' is dirty. Whatever! As if I'm going to let some aging cubical workers who haven't been laid since college get to me. My advice to my critics is, get used to it! 'Cuz you're more likely to get some booty than get rid of me. I'm not going anywhere.

Why is it that so many Americans totally freak out as soon as a grrl starts talking about her sexuality? The really weird thing is that I think they'd almost be ok with it if I was some anorexic bimbo with silicone tits. What really bothers them is that I'm a real flesh-n-blood chick who burps, farts and drinks beer. They don't like what they see because it reminds them of themselves... except that people want to have sex with me, not them.

Those stupid double standards are why I hate Americans. It's strictly Euro-boys for me from now on. Believe me, it's better to deal with European hang-ups than American prudes any day. Compared to them, the obsession of my German sometimes-boyfriend of having me spank him and call him a little bitch seems totally normal. Oops, does reading that make you uncomfortable? So sorry!

I'm so sick of Americans' crap that as of last weekend I've decided to dump my American beaus. I made the mistake of taking an American potential boy-toy to the opening of DUMA, up the street from Silvers. What thanks did I get for getting him into the invite-only party? He shined me. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When we first got there, it was a good scene -- your usual mix of girls getting paid to be there (models, not prostitutes), old guys with hot girlfriends, and a decent group of singles -- but he was clearly out of his element. The crowd was a little old for my taste -- mostly over 30 -- but it was still a pretty cool vibe.

The place itself is something like a cross between a small Krizis Zhanra and an OGI, with a bit more pafus in the mix. They've walls of books, live ironic-pop music, and DJs spinning retro tunes. One of the nicer touches is that they were handing out fake 'fros to the ladies, so I got to sport an Angela Davis 'do for the night. I think it kinda freaked out my little Amerikanets.

But he really started getting nervous after I'd downed my fourth glass of the free sangria. Nothing like sangria to work as a little love potion, and I started rubbing up against him ghetto-style. I thought it'd turn him on, but then I'm always misjudging Americans. He totally flipped, made some lame excuse about having to go meet a friend somewhere, and split about 5 minutes later. No thanks or anything.

The party got old soon after that, but luckily Silvers was just around the corner. They might not be the most attractive specimens in the world, but finding a willing Brit there is like shooting fish in a basket. I was sitting on a set of crooked teeth faster than you can say "God Save the Queen!" Think that makes me a slut? Well, then you're probably American and wouldn't have a chance with me anyway.


M: Okhotnyi Ryad

Mokhovaya 11, str. 3V (Entrance from Nikitsky per.)

Tel: 692-1119

12:00 -- 06:00

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Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops
Automotive Section
We’re happy to introduce a new column in which we publish Moscow’s raw radio communications, courtesy of a Russian amateur radio enthusiast. This issue, eXile readers are given a peek into the secret conversations of Moscow’s traffic police, the notorious "GAIshniki."

Eleven Years of Threats: The eXile's Incredible Journey
Feature Story By The eXile
Good Night, and Bad Luck: In a nation terrorized by its own government, one newspaper dared to fart in its face. Get out your hankies, cuz we’re taking a look back at the impossible crises we overcame.

Your Letters
Russia's freedom-loving free market martyr Mikhail Khodorkovsky answers some of this week's letters, and he's got nothing but praise for President Medvedev.

Clubbing Adventures Through Time
Club Review By Dmitriy Babooshka
eXile club reviewer Babooshka takes a trip through time with the ghost of Moscow clubbing past, present and future, and true to form, gets laid in the process.

The Fortnight Spin
Bardak Calendar By Jared Lindquist
Jared comes out with yet another roundup of upcoming bardak sessions.

Your Letters
Richard Gere tackles this week's letters. Now reformed, he fights for gerbil rights all around the world.

13 Toxic Talents: Hollywood’s Worst Polluters
America By Eileen Jones
Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...


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