2005-05-04 - 5:18 p.m.
I thought that to show how grateful I am that I can still write here every month and a half not only because there’s nothing particularly amusing to share but also because we have a great internet staff available here at Counterpart Consortium in D-guz, T-stan. I thought that you’d like to meet the crack-squad of dedicated guys and gals that make these kind of internet transmissions possible. Shall we get started?
1) Bossan. Sweet, kind, and bashful enough to blush at the mention of her name. Any sort of compliment thrown at her babyface is met with an astonished, "Oh my God! Oh my God! I can’t believe you said that! Oh my God!" while she struggles to cover every inch of her face with her tiny little hand. Is particularly fond of passive-aggressive comments about how long you’ve been on the computer: "Oh, Steve…I see you are writing many, many letters to your friends." My response of "Oh, have I been on to long? I’m sorry. I’ll save my work and go downstairs," is met with a shy and bashful cacophony of "Oh my God! No! Please! Keep writing! Oh my God! I was just saying!"
2) "Gay Moustache." This would-be hairdresser to Thumbelina slinks and sashays around Counterpart Consortium as if it’s the only dance floor he’ll ever own. He is given his nickname from the half-visible, half-shaven moustache that is always on his little two year old-esque face. He is consistently clasping his hands and asking you, "Sir/Ma’am, how are you today? If you so wish, I would like to offer you a computer to use. Please, I am not doing anything." He could be in the middle of writing his own death pardon and he would give up his computer in a second to anyone else who even mentioned the word "internet." He also wins the "Most Groomed But It Certainly Doesn’t Show" award for Counterpart.
The other day, he touched the sides of my of ribcage to get my attention, which made my special spot feel funny in a not good way. Anytime he says to me, "Steve, I was wondering if I could ask you a question," my brain automatically answers, "If I'll have sex with you? No." He's in the process of planning some surprise for a few of us volunteers who actually have conversations with him and I'm seriously hoping it's a not anal intercourse.
3) "Sleepy Sexy Eyes." Just like the adjective confusion in Alanis Morrissette's sophomore cd, "Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie", it should be noted that sleepy and sexy both modify his eyes. He consistently has this half-lidded, sex kitten look in his eyes which is admittedly hard to resist. Also hard to resist is the fact that he wears jeans that are insanely tight in the buttock area. Equally sexy is his oily, 70s porn king hair that he sports on a regular basis.
He also is known for the terribly fast English that he speaks, which is rare catch but a quite a sight in any event--much like copulating eagles. He asks for your mood as such: "hellosteefhowareyou." "I'm good, how are you, Bakhtyr?" "imfinesanks."
4) "Huffy." The Queen of the Castle, the King of the County. This hulking, lesbian of a Russian hovers around the computer in Counterpart as if she is sole owner of this digital domain. She is not the manager of Counterpart but rather a volunteer, which should, ideally, relegate her to second citizen status here. Counterpart Volunteers are supposed to merely oversee the usage of computers, give up their computer to any guests who need it (like Gay Moustache), help out guests, and make sure that everything is running smoothly.
Huffy is a genetic branch of her own. While other volunteers are more than willing to let others use their computers, Huffy lands on top of Computer 4 (the newest and fastest computer of the lot) and refuses to budge from it. If anyone uses it when she comes in for the day, she hovers over the person and begins to snort large puffs of air or more appropriately, "huffs." Once on the computer, she does not begin to work on the multitude of tasks available for Counterpart Volunteers to embark on. Nay. Instead, she begins to download as many Eminem and Evanescence songs as possible while chatting online.
You can imagine that in a room full of people wanting to use the internet and trying to send e-mails and one girl sitting in the middle of it all using up all possible bandwidth in the place, you're going to have some problems. However, everyone is too terrified of her to say anything like, "Hey Sappho. Stop chatting and downloading angsty songs so that the rest of us can do our work." Even better is that when the internet doesn't work, she's the only one who knows how to fix it and fixes it only on her computer. So she just sits there and chats for hours and hours to her other sullen friends in Russia while the rest of us weep into our open, dirty, sweaty hands.
