Day 10 (Or the day that Polina got her dance on Ya'll)

"Your freckled face is out of this fucking world when surrounded in that beautiful lace made of dark hair". The one thing that I have to give to Russian men is that no matter how drunk, or ugly, or even busted-eyed they may be (fights happen a lot here), they still whip out the prettiest, most poetic pick lines that I've ever heard. That's right folks. Polina finally went out. And as you'll soon see it was completely unintentional.
The day started out as uneventful as usual. My mother and I prepared to treck out ("to catch some (invisible) sun" as my mother once again insisted), and get some simple tasks done, such as file and paint my nails (motherfucking finally!) and buy a few items such as a digital card reader (pictures coming soon at last.) Naturally, my mother told me to get ready and put my coat on incessantly for about 15 minutes until I finally gave in and did it. After this she proceeded to run around the apartment for, I swear a solid hour more, and in the end said that she wasn't feeling well and had to lie down and that I should just go wait for her outside. Shit, I was already sitting out in the hall smoking fevourishly and trying to stop all the bad thoughts about killing her from flooding my imagination. But anyway, eventually we managed to make it out the door.

We went to Gostinii Dvor (this is a nightmarish shopping mall that has a very special smell because they're mixing like a thousand different things because they've got the perfume store right next to the cheese shop, which is right next to the sporting goods store which is right next to the shoe polish store). Thankfully, we were only in there for a minute. But then I got to experience that which I can finally call Bladerunner. Yay for me! We walked in this really busted alleyway that went on forever, and by busted I mean there were filed down stone steps and wooden planks (under construuuction everybody) and every few steps, both the lighting and the music/soundeffects changed because every few meters was crammed with another shop selling another pile of crap, and it was both futuristic and totally Caucasion ghetto at the same time. In other words, Bladerunner. Oh, and obviously it was filled to the brim with chels.

Ok, I'm going to try to speed it up here because this isn't a fucking diary and I know all about people's attention spans and blogs.
After we bought all of our crap, my mother took me to this place that used to be called "The Starbar" and is now called "Chort Poberi" which means "Damn it". This place was special. It was Rockabilly. I hadn't encountered this phenomenon in the U.S., but I know that it exists there. Everyone was dressed very 50's. Some people were wearing straight up cowboy outfits. And in between all of these, there were waves of anarchist punks and Antifa (for those not in the know, these are youth antifashists). Over all, a really cute atmosphere with mostly Johnny Cash, Elvis, and random country music playing in the background. I mean NYC hipsters have nothing on these people. They've ventured so far beyond the realm of ironic, that they can't remember what it looks like.
Then a boring interlude when I went to get my nails did around the corner from this place. People, Russians suck at doing nails. I'm sorry, but I miss my little Chinese Lily who gave me backrubs while my nails dried. Also, she wasn't a bitch like Yulia, who did my nails here. But to be fair, Yulia was prettier to look at and had immaculate nails herself. Which also confirmed for me that she sucks at doing nails. Anyone that has ever had a manicure knows what I'm talking about.
After I came back to Damn It, my mother grabbed me while screaming some incoherent shit about being on a list for LaMiNore and we cabbed it to some other place where a very very large man refused to let us in. Also, he was scary. Also, he was the security, obviously. Eventually, these bastards got their shit together long enough to actually find the list that we were supposed to be on, and as a complete surprise to me (we'd been standing in the rain for about 20 minutes at this point) we were on the list and the doors magically opened for us. This place wasn't as cool, but it was filled with beautiful friendly people, free coat check amazing food upstairs, and a great band venue. And when the band went on, the band called LaMiNore, I forgot for a minute where I was and thought that I was back at Mehanata during a live show. Of course, then I noticed that there were no dark skinned people anywhere, dancing or otherwise, and the illusion was broken. Still, it was an awesome band, all of whom are my mum's friends. (See people, crazy mothers are still good for some shit, such as partying and meeting cool people who think that her very obvious insanity is actually quaint eccentricity). So I met a bunch of great musicians, listened and danced to some awesome music, and had a good time in general. Finally, gawd damn it.

Oh, one last thing. I witnessed this one dude, who got so drunk that he started grabbing all the people around him. I thought that he was trying to fight them or something, but strangely, he seemed to want a hug. This was a giant gopnik with short cropped hair and no neck. Just try to imagine how comical this looked. Of course, eventually he decided that he needed a hug from a female, and both she and her boyfriend objected. So at some point, she ended up in a very angry sandwich between the life-loving, hug-seeking gopnik, and her totally angry punk boyfriend. That shit was also comical.
Also, a man asked me why he had the bad luck of being in a lesbian bar after I declined his sweaty offer to dance. So I'll end this post the approximately as I started it. You gotta love Russian men.