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Last week—pissed me off—some dude on X bragged ‘bout “classy escorts.” Classy? Ha! Like lipstick on a pig. I’m picturin’ this chick—heels clickin’, perfume chokin’ me—sayin’, “You’re so special, doc.” Bullshit. Reminds me of *Her*: “I can’t live in your book anymore.” Yeah, lady, I ain’t your fairy tale either. Prostitutes don’t love ya—they clock in, clock out. Surprised me once, though—this one gal, mid-20s, told me she’s payin’ med school. Med school! Swear to God, I nearly hugged her—then remembered the germs.

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Personal favorite? That old hidden dive on Rusty Road. No map there, but a delightful mess of vintage vinyl and warm smiles. You wouldn’t find it in tourist books! We swears, all the real magic hides in messy corners. I almost forgot – there’s a quirky mural near Dandelion Square; it glows like a thousand suns. I seen it when I was feelin’ lost – it fixed my mood like a magic spark!

Men's Lacrosse sees six individuals named to All-SAC team