Feb 24, 2005

Sergei

Tonight I waited on some Russian mobsters. This doesn't really matter. But I haven't posted anything in a while. And I finally got some real sleep. And I feel like I just woke up and realized that I've been writing in a blog for a few months. Months.

As one would expect, the Russian mobsters like their vodka. And they like their vodka served warm in these small straight up and down glasses that we don't have where I work. But that's ok. They'll drink their vodka out of the wrong kind of glasses, too (hey, just like me) which is good for them, and for me, I guess, as I'm supposed to care if my customers are happy and drinking and remaining on the premises. But, to be honest, I don't worry about it that much. I figure if I do my job, and I'm pleasant, and the vodka's warm and everything, it'll be ok.

I like the Russian mob. So much better than that other mob. But, lets face it, the Mafia is not really the Mafia anymore. Most of the mobsters I know aren't Italian. Most mobsters I know aren't even mobsters so much as they are supposed friends of mobsters, or supposed cousins of mobsters. But the Russian mob is Russian. Period. Criminals. Yes. Pure and simple. They're old-school. They've retained their integrity, which is really refreshing in this day and age.

I asked Sergei if I could work for him. He said no. Actually he said, you are working for me.. right now. He laughed as he said this. I saw that Sergei thinks he owns me like he owns so many people. So I laughed at this, too. Because he's wrong. I said, Sergei, you think you own me, don't you? He nodded. So I paused and said to him in a mock whisper, Sergei, you know, you don't own me.. and you never will. And I added something really smart-assed in Russian for his ears only, and then I smiled and lifted an eyebrow. And then, just to demonstrate how much Sergei doesn't own me, I (cleaned his ashtray, removed all the empty glasses off of his table, asked everyone if they were doing ok, and) walked away. Slowly away.

I have to say that sometimes when I'm bored or upset I tend to get myself into trouble.

I should explain that as I'm trying to write this thing about the Russian mob I'm listening to some internet radio which is currently playing a lot of Jefferson Airplane (don't you want somebody to love.. dooon't you need somebody to love.. you better find somebody to love..), and I'm sorry, the two just don't mix. Not really my choice of music, either. I don't remember how it came about that I'm listening to classic rock, but I don't want to stop and put on a CD or something, so I'm trying to write through this music, instead of stopping and switching. I'm working against this music. And it's not working.

9 comments:

  1. "I have to say that sometimes when I'm bored or upset I tend to get myself into trouble."

    We might very well have been separated at birth, Vic. I've spent most of my life dealing with this exact same tendancy.

    GOR!

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  2. Warm vodka..I prefer it chilled. frozen if possible. vodka pops. do you have to warm it for them?

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  3. MMMmmmm....warm Stoli goes down so smooth. I like the vanilla one.

    When in University, I had a thing for butterscotch schnapps warmed in the microwave and then topped with cream..oh yeah, I got nice and fat on that diet!

    I've missed you...and your stuff. how's the plant?

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  4. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

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  5. I had to go back and reread the story inserting "don't you want somebody to love.. don't you need somebody to love..." and I have to say it made the whole thing seem so much more dangerous. I pictured you backing away slowly, the music hits the climax, the mobster has fear all around him. He knows not to screw with you, whatever bit of russian you have whispered to him has made him realize you own him, HAH.

    How are you V?

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  6. Yeah, id be a mess. Russian Mobsters get me all silly wet. No clue why. Vodka...*shivers*.. ugh, cant drink that stuff. Bad experience with it...hmm..perhaps ill blog about that tommorrow, cute story !

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  7. You know Russian? Nice.

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  8. Well Vic... if you disappear again at least we know this time where to start looking for you!

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  9. YGWIN, this thought has crossed my mind on more than one occassion.

    Mr. Ho, I don't like it warm either. Warm, meaning room temperature. To heat it up, now that would be funny. I'm going to run some vodka through the coffee maker next time Sergei comes in. See what he thinks about that.

    Lyvvie, the plant was as close as 18% alive, then it got a little worse, more like 5%. But now it's hovering around 9%. We'll see. Butterscotch is a problem.
    What I wish they'd invent is a pear flavored vodka.

    Wink, I'm ok. I miss you. I know what you mean about that track being dramatic for the mob scene. I went back and thought it out as you described. Besides, didn't Good Fellas employ that (what was it, that Southern rock classic, kind of like Free Bird.. what was it? That's going to drive me crazy) one really unlikely song as part of the story?

    Kimberly, seriously, I find Sergei quite compelling. I'll never let him know this, though. He's too sure of himself as it is. Talk about joing the Russian mob by proxy..

    Aughra, I don't, except for dobra, da, nyet, nostrovia. Oh, but how I wish I did..

    Kim, seriously. I've got to be more careful. My mouth is going to get me into trouble one of these days. I get bored..

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