Enjo kōsai: "sponsor" relationship...Now Showing in Poland.

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WARSAW — They loiter at the mall for hours, young teenage girls selling their bodies in return for designer jeans, Nokia cell phones, even a pair of socks.
Katarzyna Roslaniec, a former film student, first spotted a cluster of mall girls three years ago, decked out in thigh-high latex boots. She followed them and chatted them up over cigarettes. Over the next six months, the teens told her about their sex lives, about the men they called “sponsors,” about their lust for expensive labels, their absent parents, their premature pregnancies, their broken dreams.
Ms. Roslaniec, 29, scribbled their secrets in her notepad, memorizing the way they peppered their speech with words like “frajer” — “loser” in English.
She gossiped with them on Grono.net, the Polish equivalent of Facebook. Soon, she had a large network of mall girls.
The result is the darkly devastating fictional film, “Galerianki,” or Mall Girls, which premiered in Poland in the autumn and has provoked an ongoing national debate about moral decadence in this conservative, predominantly Catholic country, 20 years after the fall of Communism.{Read on}

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"I don't always do coke but when I do, I do it off the end of a fucking machete."

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Okay - first off - I only speak a little Spanish and my spelling's crap so please excuse. Anyway - me and a buddy had been travelling around Chile and Bolivia a few years back doing a bit of snowboarding. We had been trying to get our hands on some weed with very little joy. Anything we managed to score was really weak and the deals really poor. Finally we twigged that coke was the local stimulant of choice and was pretty readily available. Well it was the end of the holiday so we figured what the hell.

We'd had a fair few beers and were feeling pretty ballsy so we hailed a cab and I (as the only somewhat capable Spanish speaker) asked directly if he could take us somewhere where we could score some coke. The driver's cool with this and starts driving us around the dodgier neighbourhoods of downtown Santiago asking hookers and pimps and general lowlives if they can help us out.

Eventually this seriously rough looking mofo agrees and gets into the front seat beside the driver - me and my mate in the back. So this dealer turns around to face us and he's like 'Cuanto grammes quieres?' I'm like 'Solo uno - gracias'. He's all 'No - no, cinco'.

So i figure fuck it - why not? It's cheap as hell so I agree. He turns away fro a sec and when he looks back at us again I see he's holding a huge fucking knife, serrated edge and all and he's pointing it directly at me. I'm like - oh fuck. This is the bit where we lose all our money, passports and maybe a kidney. It's only then that I spot a little pile of white powder on the tip of the blade and he's like' Quieres probar?' So cool as anything I lean forward, snort it off the end of the dagger and like some fucking connoisseur I'm all ' Si - es bueno. Cinco grammes.' I felt like a badass motherfucker.