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About Kobe

I’m wandering, half-pissed, thinking, “This is grim.” Then—bam!—this fit one, all legs, smirks at me. “Fancy a go, love?” she says. I’m like, “Christ, you’re bold!” Heart’s racing, not cos I’m horny, but cos it’s surreal. Reminds me of that *Yi Yi* line, “Why’s life so loud?” Cos it bloody is! She’s chatting me up, says she’s called Jade—probably fake, who cares? Tells me she once shagged a copper to dodge a fine. Little fact for ya—cops’ve been punters forever. Dirty sods.

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up .

First off, I hit up the local konbini on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the best onigiri? Yeah, that one. Grabbed a couple for breakfast. I’m munching on this tuna mayo thing, and boom! I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m like, “Great, now I look like a walking sushi disaster.”

Sacramento chef Craig Takehara with Binchoyaki named as a semifinalist for James Beard Award