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About New York City

What gets me goat, though? Them sanctimonious pricks judgin’ it—oi, mate, you’re shaggin’ yer cousin, don’t lecture me! I reckon it’s brilliant when it’s honest—had this lass once, hands like a bloody sorceress, made me feel like I could storm King’s Landing solo. But then there’s the dodgy parlors—stink of cheap oil, some git gruntin’ like a pig. Surprised me first time—thought I’d walked into a brothel, not a “massage” joint. Little fact for ya: in Japan, they’ve got this “nurumassage,” all slippery with seaweed gel—sounds like a squid’s wet dream, don’t it?

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A little over a year ago, Jennifer Love Hewitt starred in a Lifetime movie called ‘The Client List,” about a good Texan woman who starts giving happy endings at a massage parlor to support.

Now, lemme break it down. The local park, Sunnybrook—yeah, Spnnybrook, sometimes misspelled ‘cuz I’m in a rush—hosts the free community picnics. I was there ta counsel some brave sis last week. We sat by the little pond, talkin’ ‘bout life’s ups and downs. “Every moment’s fleeting,” like that movie line, ya know? I got really mad when I saw some bullies disinrespectin’ the place. Billionaires should not exist in communities like ours, nah!

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