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It's been a tough week for me with financial losses and psychological traumas. I hardly had any time to write this week's article, but the call of duty (named Ames) insisted that I do so. This won't be an easy story for most you, dear eXile readers, whose real nightclubbing intentions we both know. But here goes the cold naked truth about nightlife in Moscow.

Last Friday, I made some cash acting in a new film in which I played a small role as a sledovatel' (investigative detective). You could say that my role will not make cinema history, and I'll never get my Oscar, but I don't really care about your opinion. I'm taking my first steps in the magical world of cinema, and in the beginning you don't really make money. I have other sources of income, and they're quite good, in case if you're interested. Although, on the other hand, it is cool to tell chicks that I'm a movie star as well as The eXile club reviewer.

Anyway, I got my actor's pay of 5,000 rubles, which I think is a great deal for one day of work, and I immediately thought of my debts. Nowadays everyone has debts of some kind, depending on your status and your needs. My debts were really just a joke—1,000 rubles, which I owed to my friend after our last visit to a casino.

Getting this 5,000 rubles was a great excuse to see Vasya to pay him back. After the transaction was done I suggested going for a drink, since none of us was driving our expensive foreign cars. So we walked the dirty Moscow streets. We patronized one bar after another, burning piles of cash on powerful spirits, and sizing up each place's evroremont. It was not a lucky evening, my dear readers. We weren't grabbing the ladies' attention, we were completely alone in the cruel world looking for nothing but tender love. After my ninth Jack Daniels we decided to go for real princesses.

When we arrived at ZOLOTAYA VOBLA the party was already at its peak. I was drunk and brave enough to hit up on girls right away. At the bar counter, there were two girls sitting one next to another, talking their silly female bullshit. I asked them to recommend to me their favorite bartender, and after a few minutes, I became best friends with these two girls: Alyona and Ksyusha.

Suddenly, Alyona bet me $100 that I couldn't drink five tequila shots in a row. What if I don't drink these shots?" I drunkenly asked. She answered it would cost me my $100, and I agreed. Really, who the fuck would refuse a girl offering you tequila (she paid for it!) and a hundred bucks?

Well, the answer is that women are evil, and I learn this over and over. Anyway, I got served five shots. But each was 100 grams, not our traditional Russian 50 grams. That means a half liter of tequila! At the time it was no problem for me. I threw all five shots down my throat, and grabbed the $100 bill from the table.

...Next thing I remember is waking up alone in my bed about 4 pm the next day. I saw a pair of sneakers next to my pillow. I usually don't lose consciousness like that no matter how drunk I get. My first thought was: "PlayStation." Well, it was gone, along with my MacBook and $2,000 in cash which I left out on my shelf.

My apartment was a mess but two sets of keys were put in the corridor on my pink Van Laack shirt next to the unlocked door. I guess it meant, "We're not coming back, we took everything we needed." The only good thing that morning was the $100 bill in my back.

After I completely realized that my lovely apartment was robbed and my nice computer and PSP were gone, I called Vasya to find out what happened. He said I was so drunk that the club manager asked the security to remove me from the club.

Since I could barely walk two hachiki "gypsy cab" drivers asked Vasya to help put me into their car. Well, you know how the story ends. Vasya was wasted and the idea of two hachiki in a shestyorka didn't look strange to him. Neither did he blink when one of the hachiki took me upstairs to my apartment.

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