lapalmer

I wake up around noon. A generous breakfast of fried eggs, read pickled cabbige, some cheese and ham. Black coffee, real coffee, not the instant one I got on the train, which was thin sour sweet ink. Thank God! Then I take a long bath and struggle with the drain stopper. With the help of manicure scissors I finally get it out. Have another coffee and another cigarette.

On the TV the PM answers some questions

from “real” folk. Sovhoz Pervomaikiy, fucking Jesus, they still exist? The guy who looks stern asks a question about beet crops this year. Seriously, we have a problem with beets? Fuck me! Really? In the days when we have the god damned economic crisis and experts predict fifty percent unemployment for this country somebody cares about beet crops?? No way! Final question, what is your favourite thing? Russia, he sais. How sweet of him.

Then I move my poor head-banged ass to the only place in this city which is supposed to have wi-fi. A sports bar that is called Stream. Wi-fi doesn’t work even after I kill my anti-virus program, even after two beers and half a pack of cigarettes. The girl who is sitting next to me on the couch jumps up and down every half a minute, which is really irritating when I try to concentrate. She is hyper, so what? There are medications for people like that. She is apparently trying to configure her computer with a help of two friends: “But I bought it just a week ago, I cannot go back to them and say I just noticed it doesn’t work!” Yes, you can! Well, maybe you cannot, since you are blond. That would be too much, of course. She sais: “This is a real sports bar, just for men, you know? How do I know it? There are no mirrors in the restroom, just a picture with ten naked women.” So, I go to check out the restroom, it does indeed have a dozen of half way dressed women, “zoo sports” it says, which I kind of find ironic and the respect for this place immediatelly goes up for me. Still no wi-fi though, and it is time to go to the theater already anyways.