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About Warsaw

I got mad one time, tho—some dude at a parlor was like, “No happy ending, bro,” and I’m like, “What’s the point then, fam?!” False advertising, straight-up! But when it’s good? Oh man, HAPPY ain’t the word—fuckin’ *euphoric*! Like, “This is the trick!”—straight outta *The Great Beauty*, when Jep’s chasin’ that high. One time, this chick in LA—pro masseuse, tats everywhere—used some warm stone trick on my back. Thought I’d levitate, swear to God! Little secret: them stones? Old-school tantra shit, heats up the chi or whatever. Blew my damn mind.

Sauna, hot tub, hookah

After that, I’m feeling a bit defeated, but whatever. We keep fishing, and I finally catch a decent-sized pike. I’m pumped! I’m like, “This is it! Dinner’s on me!” But then, just as I’m about to reel it in, this old guy walks by. He’s got this serious face, and he’s like, “You know, you’re not supposed to fish here.” I’m like, “Dude, chill! I’m not hurting anyone.” But he just shakes his head and walks off.

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