As I’ve mentioned before, I live in a neighborhood full of Soviet immigrants. Some of them believe I’m Rasputin’s grandson or his reincarnation or something. I’ve tried explaining that I’m not. But many of these people speak as much English as I speak Russian. Finally, I just decided to play along. This involves showing reverence to images of the Romanovs, pouring vodka on my clothes so that I stink of booze, and occasionally exposing myself in public places.
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Actually, I was thinking of the groping/pinching of breasts and buttocks. Like tomatos, they should be neither hard and unyielding, nor soft and sagging.