A funny thing happened this morning. I woke up with a hangover- predictable, really, I DID drink a third of a liter of vodka last night- and got into the shower and realized after a little while that I still had my boxers on.

This is just fucking ridiculous. %%diary-fulminous%% has offered to put me up until I get enough bank to move. I spend all my time missing home, and that's stupid. I'm hitting a travel agency today. ETA: June 25th.

I'm coming back home.

Subways.

Ridiculous rent.

Muffins for breakfast, dinner, and snacks.

Jim Hanley's.

Ebenezer.

Pollio.

Nadre's. The Tea Lounge.

Ollie's.

Lychee martinis at Republic.

All those fucking irritating hipsters from Billyburg who read Edward Said once and decided it justified heroin use.

That awful weather.

Asshole cops.

Ten dollar movies.

Unemployment.

I love you, Tallinn; it's been a sordid affair, and even if we never got spanky or anything, it was still good.

And as for YOU, you big fucking pigsty of a city, I'll roll around in the mud with YOU shortly.