Wednesday, June 05, 2002
Olga seems to be back to her normal self. At least judging by the amount of bitching she did at me and the rest of the staff (who were lucky enough not to be present to hear it) today. Now she's got it in her head that Dave is stealing from her. The fucking cash register system is so outdated of course there are going to be discrepancies. What does she expect?!
She must have coughed for ten minutes straight when she got in. It's unbelievably humid today, mind you. It's like we're living in a cloud. B— came into the bar for an hour this afternoon and Olga gave him shit for the 'bringing the weather with him' thing. She adores him, though.
Molly and Polly came by this evening, all geared up (revved up? fuelled up? tuned up?) for theGrand Prix weekend. The official peak of Montreal's hormone season. The weekend when the city's streets suddenly become full of slick guys and six-foot, big-breasted babes. It's a zoo. Except that this year no-one will be able to see each other through the fog!
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