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About Los Angeles

Oh, and the lies! Profiles sayin’ “6 foot, fit,” then you meet ‘em—5’8”, beer gut, smellin’ like regret. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, if I could pick the liars out. Surprised me how bold they get—catfishin’ like it’s an Olympic sport. One time, this bloke sent me a dick pic, unasked! I’m like, “Mate, I didn’t order sausage!” Laughed my ass off, but also—eww, boundaries, ya pig!

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Overlea is your winner. It's getting a little more expensive, but it's not yet prohibitively costly. Right by Bel Air Rd and the 95/

Oh man, sometimes I catch myself thinking of The Wolf of Wall Street (yeah, gotta love Marty Scorsese’s crazy energy!) as I massage away life's tension. "The only thing standing between you and your goal is the bullsh*t story you keep telling yourself," he said, right? It just rings so true every time I wrangle with those stubborn clients who think they can’t relax. Lol.

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