Yeeah... the parking problem is getting more and more tense. An hour ago, the security guard at the sports club I go to smashed the face of some guy who had parked in our lot. The guy works in the office next door; they have their own parking too, but it was all full. He parked in ours and refused to move. The intensity of the emotions doesn’t surprise me at all: for the past few months, the object of my undying hatred has not been Putin or other representatives of the bloody regime, but a blonde girl. This stupid cow owns an old, crappy Z3 convertible (green, no less). She thinks she’s very cool and, apparently because of that, parks her junky convertible perpendicular to our building. And of course takes up two spaces at once. Every time I arrive and see that because of this idiot I have to drive God knows where looking for a spot, I get an image in my head from the film "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels." The scene where they put a guy’s head on the car door sill and slam the door on it as hard as they can. And the worst part is that the security guard will probably get fired now, the beaten-up guy is running around the parking lot covered in blood, I’ll go on hating that girl, and the man ultimately responsible for all this, Y. M. Luzhkov (Yuri Luzhkov, former mayor of Moscow), couldn’t care less about other people’s passions. He’ll stay in his post, keep raising bees, and help his wife make another billion.
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