7:07am: My father wakes me up with the tortured coughs and gags of a dry-heaving fit.7:37am: I am again awakened, this time by my rupturing large intestine, painfully suggesting its need to expel only a small percentage of the hot dog and sausage meat I've been eating for the past 27 years.
7:40am: Stomach stops convulsing. Expulsion: complete.
7:42am: My ass is bleeding uncontrollably due to overuse of 30 grit toilet paper. I am crying.
7:45am: Back to bed, amid curses in Russian.
8:18am: Alarm sounds. I turn it off because I have no job, and Mom gets pissed when I abuse the snooze, and I am in no position to deal with that bitch right now.
10:41am: Wake up to the sounds of horny cats exchanging mating calls in the courtyard outside.
10:42am: Urinate. Emit audible sigh. Chernigivske feels a lot better on the way out.
10:43am: Resist impulse to shower.
10:44am: Exit bathroom without pausing at the sink to consider washing my hands or teeth. Not as if there's soap or toothpaste to use anyway.
10:55am: Devour a sausage and eggs breakfast, while desperately trying to ignore my father's rant on how Tymoshenko fucked the last election for everybody. I'm also trying to ignore the bits of food reflecting off his last remaining incisor.
11:04am: Return to my bedroom, and play my favorite shitty Ukrainian pop song for the 6,429th time this week while I…
11:05am: …Put on my fake Gianfranco Ferre Shirt o' the Day, fake D&G Jeans o' the Day, and Fake Leather Pointed Loafers o' the Day.
11:08am: Inspect self in mirror. Adjust shrinking groin area. Gesticulate a gunfiring motion to falsify confidence.
11:10am: Gel hair forward. Remove dandruff flakes from bang area. Give no thought to the possibility they may exist elsewhere.
11:11am: Crowd onto the marshutka towards town center. Driver is wearing a "Fuck You You Fucking Fuck" t-shirt. I give him a hi-five. I hope everyone saw me do that.
11:12am: Terrify the blazing-hot girl seated underneath my outstretched arm with a combination of my rancid body funk and date rape vibe I'm exuding.
11:21am: Exit marshutka onto Svobody Avenue and promptly buy a 0.5L beer at news kiosk.
11:34am: Finish beer #1 as my friend Roman shows up to loiter at Shevchenko monument. I can't believe he also wore his black fake Gianfranco Ferre shirt today. I punch him in the face, knowing full well that fake Gianfranco Ferre shirts come in only one color.
11:36am: I am approached by a policeman who had witnessed said act of aggression.
11:39am: I have 20 less UAH ($4US) to spend on beer and cigarettes. My teeth and gums thank the officer sincerely.
11:44am: Buy another beer. Resume position in front of Shevchenko monument.
11:58am: Finish beer #2. Shampoo effect kicking in nicely. Time for a cigarette.
11:58:25am: Cigarette: gone.
11:59am: Yell at some passing girl in tight black capris adorned with gold buckles and buttons.
11:59:05am: Shudder when she turns around and flashes teeth worse than mine.
12:03pm: Commit to buying more than one beer at a time. Clearly, today is no different from yesterday.
12:06pm: Spend my last 15 UAH ($3) on three more beers. Kiosk attendant gives knowing glance.
12:11pm: Remember I have to meet my girlfriend Olga for a date at 12:30. Shit.
12:13pm: Finish beer #3.
12:17pm: Finish beer #4.
12:21pm: Finish beer #5.
12:21pm: Borrow 5UAH ($1) from Roman.
12:23pm: Buy beer at kiosk.
12:27pm: Finish beer #6. Fully lathered now.
12:29pm: Borrow 5UAH more from Roman.
12:30pm: Buy beer at kiosk. Attendant unphased.
12:38pm: Arrive at Opera House to meet Olga. She looks great. I look like a Cinco de Mayo piñata.
12:39pm: Olga rolls her eyes. I'm drunk again.
12:43pm: I roll my ankle. I'm drunk again.
12:44pm: Olga comments that our walking date has become a limping date. I love her sense of humor, but I'm sensitive to criticism so I berate her as part of a public spectacle to exhibit my waning dominance.
12:47pm: Continue our walking date. She window shops while I smoke cigarettes relentlessly in anticipation of my next beer.
12:58pm: Olga takes pity on me, and buys me a beer. My excuse that I left my ATM card at home is met with more eye rolling.
12:59pm: Nearly half an hour after my last beer, the first sip tastes so good. It's warm, but it's getting the job done. Olga can say whatever the fuck she wants. I'm not even listening.
1:24pm: It occurs to me that since Olga bought me the beer, not a word has been spoken. It similarly occurs to me that for once in my life, this ridiculous hand-holding over her shoulder (around her neck) finally proves useful. I have a beer-buying human crutch for a girlfriend. My limp is negligible, and all is right with the world.
1:31pm: I am essentially dry-humping Olga as we walk past storefront windows containing items neither of us can possibly afford.
1:35pm: Quietly rummage through Olga's purse with my off-hand for some Hrivna with which to buy my next beer. I could ask, but I just don't feel like talking.
1:41pm: Olga is in the McDonald's bathroom. I am outside, perched underneath a full bottle of beer, hoping to finish before she finds out who bought it.
1:44pm: Olga returns, and suggests we eat at McDonald's. What does she think? I'm made of fucking money?!?!?!?
1:48pm: Oh yea, she's buying. Again. Score!! Supersize.
1:50pm: The only smell worse than the stench of a McTasty is whatever is being secreted by my underarm glands. Man, I'm hungry.
1:58pm: Done eating, Olga needs to get back to her job at the bank. I need to get to Shevchenko monument before Roman finds something better to do. An unlikely scenario, but the beer has me acting a bit paranoid.
2:02pm: Suggest we get together to bone later that night. She says something about something, and I nearly pass out from the energy it took just to listen.
2:14pm: Back at the monument, drinking one of Roman's beers. Lose count of how many beers I've had, but understand that there are at least 15 of my elders nearby who are a lot more drunk than I am.
2:32pm: Laugh at the expense of a local guy in goggles who is trying to push against a moving delivery truck, and is sliding backwards on the cobblestones as the truck driver accelerates. Life expectancy: 17 seconds.
2:32:14pm: The local guy in goggles takes two swift overhand rights to the face and neck from said truck driver. Roman and I are on the ground bawling. This is the best day of our lives.
2:39pm: Pick ourselves off the ground. We need to celebrate. We need to do something amazing. Begin brainstorming.
2:53pm: Park ourselves at Adam Mickewiecz monument 80 meters away, and resume drinking beer.
6:01pm: Wake up. I’m still at Adam Mickewiecz monument, and Roman is gone. How long have I been asleep? Where is my beer?
6:03pm: Collecting my thoughts, I smoke a cigarette, and contemplate a lifestyle change.
6:07pm: I need beer. I kick in the door of the kiosk. Lifestyle: changed.
6:11pm: Halfway through my next beer, decide to go to the Ringworm Window and order a nasty hot dog with all the fixins (mayo, corn, peppers, mayo, lettuce, mayo, and mayo).
6:14pm: I’m dry heaving. Man, that was good.
6:41pm: Go to a convenience store nearby, sit on milk crate inside. Text Olga and Roman. Where the fuck are they?
7:07pm: Roman calls me. He’s at Shevchenko monument, drinking. For some reason, this surprises me.
7:13pm: Watch a young boy get hit by a car. I’d stop to see if he’s ok, but Roman said he only had one beer left, and that I’d better hurry. I’m sure the kid is fine.
7:16pm: Genuflect as I pass the Virgin Mary statue. It’s a good thing I haven’t sinned today.
8:14pm: Three beers later, decide to go to Club Metro later.
8:24pm: Go to ATM and withdraw 80 UAH ($16). It’s going to be a big night.
8:28pm: Olga calls. I tell her I have a lot of work to do, and can’t see her tonight. Roman laughs audibly in background.
8:41pm: Engage in a very in-depth political conversation with Roman on the merits of westernization versus assimilation with Russia.
8:44pm: Tire of politics and begin discussing girls’ asses as they walk by.
8:53pm: Roman calls a foreigner “George Bush.” I fall over in hysterics and almost spill my beer. Man, that was a good one.
9:14pm: I can barely breathe after my 34th cigarette. Finally I feel as though I’ve accomplished something.
9:19pm: Gasp about how much I want to fuck Tymoshenko. Roman has heard this all before.
9:41pm: Throw empty bottles at the stray dogs in the square, while narrowly missing passers-by.
9:44pm: A policeman approaches me about the throwing of bottles. I promise to stop.
9:45pm: He asks me about a kiosk robbery. I promise to stop that too.
9:46pm: Bribe policeman with 10UAH ($2). Fuck, that was an expensive conversation.
10:07pm: Pile into Roman's 1974 Broke-Ass Mobile, (BAM!!!) each through the driver's side door.
10:08pm: Ask if he’s too drunk to drive, to which he assures me he certainly is.
10:09pm: Laugh hysterically.
10:10pm: Back over a homeless person.
10:11pm: Laugh maniacally.
10:29pm: Park the BAM on the sidewalk around the corner from Metro.
10:41pm: Balk at the 30UAH entry fee, even though we knew damn well it would cost this much when we hatched the idea.
10:46pm: Head straight for the bar and quickly down four shots of vodka. Each. Purpose: to manufacture confidence.
10:52pm: Dance like epileptics in need of attention. Girls around us look horrified. We call them bitches.
11:22pm: Two more shots of vodka while Roman is in the bathroom, and I’m now belligerently shitfaced.
11:24pm: Tell Roman that tonight I’ll either A) fuck or B) fuck someone up.
11:31pm: See a foreigner hitting on a Ukrainian girl we know from somewhere. We are in disbelief that she can possibly find him attractive given his good hygiene, keen fashion sense, and gainful employment. She must be wasted too.
12:14am: Finish smoking a shisha and run away before we’re asked to pay for it.
12:22am: Slobber on some girl about how she should marry me. She shockingly rejects me.
12:25am: Have three more shots of vodka. That shit will never reject me.
1:35am: I haven’t seen Roman in hours. I don’t care. I’m dancing spastically in the center of the dance floor, sweating and trying desperately to make eye contact with an available female for purposes of mating.
2:22am: I think I’m in the bathroom, but it’s hard to tell with all the people in there making out. I have no idea where I am, nor do I know where my phone is.
2:41am: Back on the dance floor, I somehow manage to find a girl that can best be described as being of questionable quality and character. The line I used: "Vodka?"
2:55am: Engaging in full-stage foreplay in a banquette while wishing Roman could see what a stud I am. At the same time, I hope Olga’s friends aren’t here.
3:01am: Olga’s friend Olga points and screams at me about being a bad man.
3:02am: Girl leaves, Olga’s friend leaves, I consider sleeping in banquette.
3:07am: Spend my last 12 UAH on a taxi ride home at the behest of club security. Not without a fight, mind you.
3:12am: Jerk off
7:05am: My father wakes me up with the tortured gags of a dry heaving fit. I have no memories of anything past that awful hot dog.
7:17am: On the shitter again. Another day...
FYI - I've uploaded a bunch of pictures of Lviv to Flickr if you want to check them out. Happy Halloween, all. My favorite holiday ever, and I still don't have a costume 4 hrs before the party starts. We'll see what I come up with.
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