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But—grrr—some crap pisses me off! These shady pimps, lurkin’ like Gestapo, watchin’ every move. One tried shakin’ me down—extra 1,000 rubles “protection fee.” Protection? Ha! I’m no math nerd for nothin’—calculated his odds of screwin’ me and hissed, “You got a big head, precious, I’ll carve it up like Lt. Aldo carves swastikas!” He backed off—coward! Surprised me, tho—thought he’d fight dirtier. Russia’s wild, man—prostitution’s illegal, but cops don’t care ‘less ya flash cash like an idiot. Fun fact—back in Soviet days, they called ‘em “night butterflies.” Poetic, huh? Now it’s just “devochki”—girls. Gritty, raw, real.

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Neighborhoods here mix the luxe with the not-so-glam. West of Fair Oaks, you'll find old, quirky houses with stories behind every cracked window pane. One day, while kneading out a client’s tension, I looked out and nearly shouted, “The universe is absurd!” Ha! That’s Arden-Arcade: unpredictable, edgy, a real live soap opera of tiny living.

Drive-through sushi saved this Arden Arcade restaurant during COVID. Now it’s a business fixture