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Sex-dating’s a freakin’ circus, mates. Apps like Bumble, Hinge—gods, even FetLife if you’re nasty—turn us into horny little puppets. I love it! The thrill of a match, that ping on my phone, it’s like “How happy you were,” from *Eternal Sunshine*. But then—BOOM—half these dates flop harder than Thor’s hammer on a bad day. One time, this Midgardian chick showed up, all “let’s bone,” then spent two hours yapping about her ex. Mate, I wanted sex, not a therapy sesh! Made me wanna scream, “I’d rather erase you than listen!”

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First off, I get a call about a cat stuck in a tree. Classic, right? But this ain't just any cat. It's Mr. Whiskers, the local legend. Everyone knows him. I mean, he’s got his own fan club! So, I grab my gear and head over to the scene. It’s on a busy street, and there’s a crowd. Like, seriously, people are taking selfies with the tree! I’m like, “Yo, it’s just a cat!” But nope, they’re all about that Instagram life.

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