Went to a movie (10000 BC, was OK but nothing special) and a bar with a friend yesterday.
At some point I heard some Russians sitting next to us discussing me. It happens every once in a while; I usually ignore it. At some point, however, "I know her from somewhere" - "I think it was the linguistics department" - "no, I think it was the computer science department" intrigued me, and I realized that these might be the people who actually do know me. After this brilliant deduction I turned to look at them, and they introduced themselves, turning out to be a Sasha who has met me in the linguistics department, and a Viktor who was one of my student in the CS department.
"Do you know everyone in every bar?" asked Kimmo, the guy with whom I was drinking. This is not really the case, but his statistical sample seems to suggest that it is.
The Russians asked us to watch their stuff while they went for a smoke, came back, started a most absurdly funny linguistics discussion (which I didn't join for fear of boring Kimmo to death), addressed me in Russian in the polite plural (the last time anyone has done that to me was 24 years ago when a cop grabbed me for being too scantily dressed and insulting the community standards, but that is a whole different story), bought us some drinks, raised them with a very loud "L'Chaim!", suddenly got very angry at the guard at the door for some reason, and ran away.
A little while later a guy with sad eyes came up. "May I sit with you?" he asked. "For a while, if you behave youself," we said.
The sad-eyed guy was called Leo. He turned out to work in the same place where Kimmo was in the army, and they talked about the army things to the extent that made me slightly regret not joining the linguistics discussion earlier.
When Kimmo went to get himself another beer, Leo changed the subject.
"I really like your breasts. You have very big breasts," he said, with the same glow of a brave discoverer that Einstein must have had after figuring out the theory of relativity.
After realizing a second too late that "thanks, you too" might be a wrong answer, I added "thanks for the information, I'll keep it in mind". Leo got a bit defensive and tried to explain that this is a good thing.
Kimmo came back with his beer, and Leo changed the subject again. "Have you thought of going to a barber?" he asked Kimmo, whose hair is quite a bit past his shoulders. Kimmo answered that he had given short hair enough of a try, so no, the answer is "no". I suppressed the natural "man, have you looked in a mirror lately? You really shouldn't be giving people hairstyling advice", and settled for a polite "but men are so much sexier when they have long hair," looking rather pointedly at Leo's 1-centimeter-short hair.
"I don't know about that," said Leo, clearly trying to think what kind of men he might consider sexy and coming up short, "but I sure love receiving blow jobs from people with long hair".
"I don't think Kimmo would give you a blow job. Sorry."
After that Leo decided to change the subject again, to politics. Now, I don't generally consider it rude to discuss politics with total strangers, but I think you should start in softer tones, even if you are expressing extreme views. "Kokoomus are the fascist party" is a somewhat ill-advised start for a bar conversation, especially in an electoral district where it is the most popular party.
"Not really, but they are way too Social-Democratic," said Kimmo. Leo looked at him as if he had just grown horns.
"I've voted for Perussuomalaiset," said Kimmo.
"I'll probably vote for them next time around," I said.
Leo looked at us with eyes that were more terrified than sad and ran away, saying that he needed to go to the next place. Hope he didn't see too many nightmares.