STD issue 4: How to bond with your co-workers

If all of our lives are defined by constants and variables where one is predictable, but comforting, and the other being unknown and, therefore intriguing then we can all be regarded as being the same, at the base level, except of course Macker (there is always an exception to the rule) who continually confounds and baffles all with his invariable variability, which means he is more constant than variable???...getting confussed now, constanant please Carol. So take solace in the arrival of this weeks edition and put your fig leaf over your grapes and enjoy the Olympic themed edition of STD.

Here at STD weekly (the constant) and the articles within (the variable), we endeavour to be the skewer to your kebab, the tzatziki to your gyros and the ella to your mallaka. Are we following the theme of unison here???...for this week sees the opening ceremony of the XXXVIII Olympics which is, or will have been until the Greeks gave their skanky bumrushing paws on it, the greatest celebration of humanity in the world. Friday the 13th sees the opening ceremony (CLUE 1 to the IOC who awarded the Greeks this years games that a serious skanking was afoot) where the Nth and Sth Koreans will walk together through the half built stadium whilst being mocked and jeered, no doubt, by the always inhospitable and xenophobic/nationalistic/player hating Greeks.

This years Olympics has been clouded with doping scandals, bribery allegations and the fact that the Greeks can’t get their asses in gear to adequately prepare for the games, all this adds up to disaster. Theytalk of pride and the Olympics returning to their spiritual home after 28 centuries. But the Greeks of old, philosophers and maths geeks, are a far flung breed to the Ouzo guzzling, chain smoking, ignorant skankaholic Greeks of the 21st century. They’ve increased prices in some case by over 100%, the workers are striking and I’m rather suspicious has to how finished the stadia are. Enough of my ranting about the Greeks, the world will find out for themselves just what a 'hospitable' bunch these olive skinned goat herding shit monkeys they are.

Last weeks competition winner: Jude le Breadbin, Watson fried egg flavourwas good enough to take the prize of a date with Kelly and his toblerone, and an airmail stamp, with envelope and pen, to write to Toblerone new taste department to request your new flavour. The competition department would like to thank the record number of entrants, and better luck next time to the Bulge.

What has been happening in Vilnius this week? Still haven’t been more than ankle deep in terms of culture but that is all changing now with the departure of Gav, which means that I have become the sole ambassador of Ireland in Vilnius, how lucky they are.

The brawling boss.Sitting down having a few beers with some friends, all of a sudden the head honcho from the marketing department bursts into the Pub with a flock of Liths. After the usual how are you etc I sat back down, enjoyed a couple more beers. Quite un-interesting I hear you say. I decide to take my sexy body; with sexy limp...limps are the new eye-patches, to the dance floor with a young lady for some tango lessons. Two secs into the tango and I hear a thump on the floor, look around and see a guy covered in blood and knocked for six. I then look up to see my boss with no shirt on being restrained by his buddies!!! Turns out my bosses mate was the guy who was decked and he was trying to get the young scallywag who through the heavyweightpunch. After carrying the guy outside and cleaning him up a little, Rytas(boss) decides to tell me why he and his buddies are all there. Turns out it’s his stag night and he’s getting married this Saturday, BUT I’m not to tell anyone in the office 'cos he doesn’t want anyone to know!!!!?? It didn’t bother me as he decided to start splashing out on the sambucas for the remainder of the night. Don’t know what to think bout all that especially as Rytas will have a new item of jewellery, and people are bound to notice, on his finger from after his two weeks honeymoon, which I helped him book on the net. Considering Rytas resides in my pocket now I’m thinking about turning in late, leaving early and taking a three hour lunch break everyday from now on...

The Wodka challenge
Still with Friday night, sitting in Cili Pica with an Irish backpacker, who incidentally has a mathematical theorem named after him (true). In his Kerry brogue he described to me...? Well lahd, Oi was studyin at home for de leavin cert roight, and ih just hit me loike. X plus z minus co-efficient didn’t make sense but three times x's co-efficient did...etc? BLEW MY MIND. And the guy now gets a royalty cheque from the dept of education in Ireland and from any maths books around the world that publishes it. NERD. So this guy, Keith gets a text from this stripper he bagged the night before to go to a nearby Russian bar that says open 'til nine in the morning andasks me if I’d like to go with him. Don’t have to ask me these things twice. Arrive there to be greeted by a 6ft5in Moscowite who shouts at me, politely I think, 'you dreeeenk Wodka?’ couldn’t really say no. Five or six ridiculous shots later and I’m arm wrestling my new best friend, can’t remember his name, and discussing the effects of capitalism on post-communist Russia. Then the lunatic, whose drinking whiskey and coke by now, decides to take a bit out of his glass and chew on it. There he was, like it was a Sunday roast chomping away on the thing, couldn’t believe it. Obviously freaked out by this stage and with Keith nowhere in sight and some girt telling me how foolish I am to be there with this guy and his comrades I decidedto make like Sputnik and blast off. Luckily Keith saw me leaving and we left in one piece. Phew.

Acting 24/7
So far you know that I hate Greeks, pikies, a suburban girl, Wolf Blitzer, Kurt Honeycupp and skangers. Now I add the most nauseating species known to man onto the list...the aspiring actress. Night two of Gavs going away, and with him nowhere to be seen (apparently trudging through a swamp outside the city till midnight with his boss), I was hanging out with James and the film crew. After talking with Zoran the director of photography and Igor the Assistant director I was beginning to like the sounds of an all action shoot. Then I got talking to the most irritating creature on thisplanet. Having introduced herself as the actress who I’ll recognise as wearing the brass tits in some film, I knew I was in for trouble. I wanted to show her my index finger and ask her did she recognise that. Until James cam along and saved me I had heard all about drahmah school, in her equally knobrashingly irritative London voice, and how her boyfriend is touring with this co. and her friend is doing Les Mis in the west End, and bear in mind I’ve done well not to glass this vile wench while she repeatedly called me ‘darling’. YOU'RE IN A STRAIGHT TO DVD SEQUEL THAT NOBODY WILL EVER SEE. When James came on the scene, locked out of his mind, he gave her all his Artful Dodger cockney charm and started to fill her with ‘you look so good in front of the camera’, ‘you’ll be a star’ tripe I decided to stickaround to see if this wannabe would actually swallow it up. Like a baby following mummy’s aeroplane spoonfuls of pureed chicken and broccoli through the air before it landed in the mouth she lapped it all up, without the use of a bib. I watched as her eyes grew ever wider and brighter, and she gave that wispy 'I want to fuck you till tomorrow (as long as I’ll get the part) look to James, who couldn’t give a shite and enjoyed taking the piss out of this obnoxious z-lister.Well folks, another week in the life.

I’m beginning to get freaked out by the amount of limp-a-holics I’m seeing around the city, maybe this is a Mecca for the pedically inflicted. Its like some sort of subversive movement, akin to Fight Club, when you pass someone with a limp they give you that knowing glance of re-assurance and community. Only difference between us is we’re no secret, everyone can plainly see we’re gimps. I entertained a couple of Polskies in the apartment this week. ‘Beavisand Butthead’ as I like to call these squabbling buddies who came to Vilnius on a quest for the 'Beaver', of which they succeeded. By the way, don’t ever mention the war to these people, I found out the hard way as I listened to Jan for about 40mins shout on about Russians and German invasions, occupations etc. Just don’t go there. The guys did leave me a bottle of Polish vodka for my hospitality though, can’t wait to sample it. Slightly dubious about the label on the front which says that it’s flavoured with the favourite berry eaten by the polish bison. What??

Anyway folks, this week’s competition: After I destroy Greece what would you like to see in its place?

Staffowski, editor-in-chief, champion to the little guy, rumpologist tothe stars and all round nice guy

STD issue 3: Olympic News

Loyal readers, we (I) here at STD would firstly like to apologise for the failure to deliver your favourite weekly read to your mail boxes by the close of business on Friday. Whilst finalising the current edition the editor was called away on an urgent matter which required his immediate presence i.e. train to national park left early on Friday, I heard the call of the wild and I duly answered.

So, instead of the team here at STD aiding your end of week transition from pencil pushing subordinate to CEO of your own personal enterprise, on a weekend basis only, allow us to invert our role, for one week only, and act as the badly needed lubricant to assist you into slipping back into the mundane routine of the 9 -5. Appreciating that eyes may be puffed and heads may be weary, after a weekend of debauchery, hooliganism or non-contact Origami, we will endeavour to keep this weeks articles brief and pointless, as per usual.

OLYMPIC NEWS: a lot of readers commented on my ‘unwarranted' cynicism withregards to the Greeks staging the Olympics. I stand by my comments 100%, and how I laugh to see the embarrassed Greek Olympic council representatives on a daily basis apologise for their athletes being EPO junkies, cheats and a disgrace to the Olympic ideals. Won’t harp on about the Greeks any longer, but what I will say on the mater of EPO is I gots to be getting my hand on some of that stuff. Macker...you know anybody that knows anybody that might be able to point me in the right direction? I am also considering taking up gymnastics and hope to represent Ireland in Beijing, the though of being seen by over a billion people worldwide as I prance round the floor in spandex is too much to resist, we all have dreams, its time I fulfilled mine.

Competition: In keeping with the Olympic theme, this weeks question is:As I begin my preparations for the 2008 Olympics, what other event do youthink I’d be most suited for? Answers to the usual address please.

Finally getting past the awkward ‘dipping your balls into the hot water’ stage, of the cultural bath that is, I find myself almost submerged in the Lithuanian way of life. Soon I will be walking around in white cotton trousers, a fake Armani tank top, carrying a man purse and walking around with 6 mobile phones just like my Lithuanian brothers. The previous weekends experience was my first not to have any contact with an auschlander.

Sauna swingers?
The previous Friday saw me accepting the invitation to spend the night in the forest with a group of my work colleagues. I was thinking that finally I would get to have a quiet evening and get to know my colleagues around the camp fire, relishing a night without the use of alcohol. I don’t think I could have been more wrong. Firstly, I though we’d be roughing it in a girls country house in the woods, like she said. When we arrived at the forest, straight out of a Brothers Grimm illustration, I thought we were still on course for the idyllic log cabin by the river. I certainly didn’t expect to be confronted by a wooden mansion that looked like it could have been built by Hansel & Gretel had they had the keys to the Wonka factory; modesty seems to be a speciality of this girl.

Secondly, I thought that the 40lithas I gave to the kitty was for food and a beer or two. If they had have asked did I want to join them on a session I would have said yes it just would have been nice to know that they had bought a keg and about six bottles of spirits (between eleven people). Never one to turn down a good session I quickly began to suck the booze from the keg. As the night wore on and everyone became ever merrier, I was really getting into the selection of Russian pop music, which included a rooskie version of 4 non-blondes, and impressing all with my lack of knowledge of any words to any song by any Irish artist. The party just got better with the mass exodus of all from the veranda to the sauna room. Earlier on I had noticed that I was the only person there without a partner, but didn’t really pay any attention it at the time. But when everyone began to strip down to their Speedos and enter the sauna all I was thinking was I’m in the Lithuanian version of Eyes Wide Shut and soon I’ll be asked to do something nasty to somebody’s wife while he tapes it.

Once I got over this initial uneasiness, where was booze when I had to do my communion reading in front of all those people?, I was happy to continue my boozing in the 100 degree steam pit. At this point I had developed a slight emphatuation with a couple of the wives but had the good sense to know that the Lithuanian police would never find my body in this dense forest, and left that to myself. Being the last man standing with one of the hubbies, who used to live in Russia and now owns a Russian antique store specialising in Russian bells (what a niche), there was only one thing that was gonna happen: Wodka, great, superb. After a few shots I was dead and the next thing I know I was being woken up on the floor of the changing rooms and being told it was breakfast time. Looking forward to some sort of grease-sponge to settle my stomach I was presented with a pint and a slice of bread with some tomato and cucumber on it, I passed at the pigs’ ear that was being passed around.

The day did, however, turn out to be fun with beers constantly being thrown down my gullet, hardcore sauna sessions being directly followed by dips in the sub-zero river. Can I just add at this point that to add to my limp I was now covered head to toe in mosquito bites, my back was raw due to Tomaz whipping me with a bunch of herbs in the sauna and I had only half of my chest hair left (had to shave off a portion due to rash which had developed), what a vision of beauty I was. So, looking like I’djust spent a week in the Chernobyl Hilton I was returned to Vilnius by my colleagues for some much needed rest. I get back to my place to find my new house mate, Axel from Germany, is there and being in no mood to go through the usual introductions I headed straight for bed. Ten minutes later Agne has arrived at my place with a rake of beers to drink before we go out on the town, what a girl.

Stunt-tastic
Fully refreshed on the Sunday and with a solid four hours sleep behind me it was time to introduce myself to young Axel. Tall, paler than Kelly (Bouli to those that don’t know him), from east-Berlin, listens to techno, and über-gay just about sums him up. I never thought it was true about ‘ze Germans’ before but they are so clinical and methodical about everything they do. Watching Axel slice his bread and place the cheese on it in the most precise fashion scares the crap out of me. Myself and Agne were given the full story of Axel, who didn’t get the Guns ‘n Roses or Beverly Hills Cop jokes which I was laughin my ass off to, I just can’t imagine what it was like to have lived in any of these communist places, some of the stories that you hear are just beyond belief. After a brief background exchange from me we decided to go to the stunt show in the national stadium. Doing my best not to laugh at the rainbow style suspenders that Axel is sporting, we ended up at the Lada stunt fest ‘04.

Watching the speeding Ladas whizz around the stadium on fire, sideways, with Ukrainians standing on the sides was all well and good. The main attraction for me was the mid 50's head of the team who was about 5ft tall wearing a pair of 1980 Adidas jogging shorts with matching singlet and luminous yellow head scarf, no matter how hard I try I just can’t get used to the all round hickness over here. The final couple of stunts really had the crowd on edge. Firstly they parked a lorry trailer across the track than a Lada came speeding round, drove under it, takes the top half of the car off and send the other half bouncing around the track towards the trackside spectators!!! It’s a miracle that nobody was killed as all that there was to buffer the impact was some security tape.The next couple of stunts saw more Ladas flip upside down and explode mid-airand bounce dangerously close to the stands.

The worst thing about last week was playing catch up with sleep as I decided to go boozing with Karolina on Monday night, what was supposed to be a couple of drinks turned into an outdoor session on top of a castle with some of her buddies watching hot air balloons taking off against the backdrop of the crimson Baltic sun dipping into the horizon. Doobers were passed around and we ended up in Broadway dancing till the wee hours to the birdie song, again.

Thankfully I move out of the Bronxski this week into new apartment which means I don’t have to out up with Radana any longer. She bestowed another pearl of Czech wisdom on me the other day after me telling her that I see to be attracting lunatic girls. ‘In my country we have a saying “A raven sits close to a raven”’. At this point I wondered why Dr. Xavier hadn’t given her a call up to the X-Men, perhaps the Garbage Pail kids are recruiting soon though. So folks, enjoy your Monday perusal through the pages of STD and perhaps try to spread it out as opposed to taking it all in one sitting, I find its better for the digestion system that way, and keeps you more regular. Look forward to the return of STD in its usual spot on Friday afternoon as you will hear all about electric storms, canoeing through unspoilt wilderness and of course me being naked in front of a German scout troupe (the polish vodka was consumed on Friday night).


Until then, Staffowski the brave, humanitarian and founder of the Lithuanian society for the protection of beetles