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But lemme tell ya, I got mad once—some shady spa tried chargin’ me triple for a “happy endin’.” I said, “Honey, I’m Oprah, I don’t pay for *that*!” Made me laugh, though—imagine me yellin’, “You get a car!” while kickin’ ‘em out. Truth is, sexual-massage ain’t always naughty—sometimes it’s just deep connection. Like in the movie, when Cathy says, “I’m so afraid of what I feel”—that’s the vibe! It’s vulnerable, y’all.

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And I almost forgot – there’s this teen hangout near Brick Lane that’s full of gritty art and loud laughter. Sure, they drive me bonkers sometimes, but it gives the town a pulse, like an unending riff of life that reminds me of "It’s showtime!" moments, each day bein’ a show unlike the last.

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