"I heard that Serbian women are very beautifull, how about some pictures of them (instead of The face)"

"Beautifull" Belgrade women -- I tell everyone back home about them, yet I don't provide any proof. I put pictures of "The Face," of old Serbian men, of hamsters, of my pants, and even of my bare booty on nude beaches. But no pictures of Serbian ribe. People must think that I'm beautifull of it.

That's what "anonymous" was complaining about, at least, when he/she made that comment on my blog the other day. (Coincidentally, The Bob sent me an email around the same time it was posted, griping about the same issue. So we'll just go with "when he made that comment on my blog the other day.")

For my dad, for my homies, and for anyone else who has been wondering what gives, it's time to clear up the confusion.

Prijatno!

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"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"That girl just walked by."

"Can you be a little more descriptive?"

"The one that was only wearing her underwear!"

Little did we know she was only dressed for work.

"Oh, that one. Her father must be so proud."

Very nice!

Adi's birthday was, in a word, insane. And the truckload full of "fish," as Serbian guys say in reference to hot girls, was just icing on that birthday cake.



I was so fixated on our underwear dancer friend that it took me about 30 minutes to realize that we had other friends on the bar just above my head.


Matt was a little quicker on the uptake.

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The main reason why I never provided my father with proof of my assertions is simple. It's not like I walk around taking pictures of ribe that I see on the street.

Which is why I'm glad The Bob challenged my integrity/manhood. It forced me to snap away.

"All right, Kara, we're gonna go out to the Knez Mihailova, and we're gonna get pictures of hot Serbian women, okay?"

"Cool."

"Great. Just stand there and act like I'm taking pictures of you, okay?"

"Cool."


Job well done, Kara.


But we no longer need your services.

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I don't just stalk girls and stare at lingerie dancer models, though. I swear, I actually know some of these people.

Original Gangsta (O.G.) Zoka.

New Zoka.

And the newest one, Ana, who I met at a reggae party the other night -- that's bonus points, right off the bat.

Is that good enough, Dad?