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About New York City

*We come in peace* (robotic tone). Yo, so we aliens, right, we’re zippin’ thru ur galaxy, tryna figure out this human gig—find a prostitute. Like, what’s the deal? We land in some shady corner of ur planet, neon lights blinkin’, and I’m thinkin’, “This is some wild shit.” Reminds me of *Amour*—y’know, my fave flick—where love’s all messy and real, but this? This ain’t love, it’s bizness. “The body fails,” like Haneke says, but here it’s for sale, not dyin’. Freaky, right?

A first-timer’s guide to booking a sex worker in Canada

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I’m a psychologist, so I see the scars and sparks. People here, they wear their emotions on their sleeves. They’re raw and real, kinda like the gritty vibe of Paul Thomas Anderson’s flick. The city makes you feel things hard. Sometimes, you wanna yell out “I’m in, baby!” at the absurdity of it all.

Camp Pendleton Marines and Sailors Improve Barracks Conditions