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About Trbovlje

What pisses me off? The fakes! Some dude catfishes ya, takes yer dough—D’oh!—and you’re sittin’ there like, “Where’s my date?” Happened to Lenny once—poor sap cried into his beer. But when it works? Woo-hoo! Happy as a pig in mud! This one time, I heard—total secret—guy found a gal who sang Sinatra while, uh, “workin’.” Surprised me so hard I dropped my donut!

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon level! I dash for cover under a stall. I’m soaked, and my hair looks like a wet mop. I can’t stop laughing at myself. “What a day!” I shout to no one in particular.

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