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About Las Palmas

I dig it, ok? Slow moves, deep pressure—happy as hell when it hits right. But sloppy amateurs? Pisses me off—wasted time, no skill. Learned this trick once—Thailand, 2010, chick used elbows, cracked my spine good. “You’re all I have left,” I muttered, half-joking, half-high on endorphins. Little known fact: Japan’s got “nurugel,” slippery as fuck, seaweed slime shit—surprised me, weirdly hot.

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I love taking long walks near the Centro de Interpretación, though he's a real pain with his pretentious guide vibes. I've seen enough fancy tour groups to last a lifetime. And while we're on the topic of drama, let me tell ya—the local tapas bars near Plaza de Toros are bloody brilliant. They serve the best jamón, and the locals gossip like they’re in a never-ending gossip show. Makes me wanna stay put forever, if only I wasn’t the spa owner cleaning up after every bloody human being.

Alberto Osuna receives negative decision in latest motion for eligibility