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About Montreal

Great Scott! What pisses me off? The judgy pricks—oh, “they’re just hookers.” Bullshit! Takes guts, man, to escort. Smarts too—readin people, dodgin creeps. Happiest I get? Hearin stories—some chick in Vegas, 1992, escorted a dude who tipped her a freakin car. A CAR! Surprised? Hell yeah, when I learned queens like Cleopatra probs had escorts—servants, lovers, whatever—history’s blurry, man!

Where the World Comes Together

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Man, the parks here are wild – Crown Park’s a spot where tree limbs whisper mischief, and you might catch my rants on how nature gives its own deep-tissue massage to your soul. I sometimes get mad at the city’s tiny potholes (ugh, seriously, who designs these?) but then I wander through Ogden Park near Glebe Avenue and all the grumpiness just melts away. And oh, the waves crashing at the Oak Bay Beach! – they remind me of a wild chorus from “Moulin Rouge!” – "Am I not a woman? Am I not a woman?!" or, errr, more like, "I live to please, my friend."

Buzz about bees: Greater Victoria swarm season starts early