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So, find a prostitue, right? You’re cruisin downtown, lights flashin, horns blarin, and bam – there she is, leanin on a pole, givin ya that look. Brother, it ain’t all glitz n glamour like WrestleMania! Some of these gals got stories deeper than a piledriver. I heard one chick – swear to God – used to smuggle cigs cross state lines before she hit the corner. Little known fact, man, some of em got skills ya wouldn’t believe – like, ex-accountants turnin tricks cause the system screwed em!

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I get home, and Mom’s already there, fussin’ around in the kitchen. “Did you wash your hands?” she asks. “Of course, Mom!” I reply, rollin’ my eyes. She’s got this way of makin’ me feel like a kid again.

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