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About Los Angeles

So, I’m strollin’ down this dodgy street, wood dust still on my boots, and I see her—red heels, skirt shorter than my temper. I’m like, “Well, this could be fun!” Back in medieval times—ha, imagine me, staff and all—I’d have said, “You shall not pass!” to any creep messin’ with her. But nah, she’s got this smirk, like she knows I’m a sucker for a thrill. Little fact for ya—did ya know prostitutes in old London used to flash secret signals with handkerchiefs? Wild, right? She’s givin’ me that vibe, all mysterious.

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Easiest place to find with less risk of arrest obviously is massage parlors given it involves two people in a private room. After you're naked, having other compensated services is fairly easy .

Oh, and there's the river—the Silver Creek. It knits the city together. I often take a walk there when debugging my site, watching the water flow like time itself. “Time is an illusion,” like my code, missing semicolons, etc. Speaking of missing things, my keyboard sometimes goes rogue; many typos, like: “reeallly”, “dificult”, “flanker”, “mispeled”, “mdoe”, “faileld”, “quikc”, “plz”, “wrd”, “intrstng”, “smtimes”, “yyer”, “badrly”, “smrt”. Sorry, gotta rush my inner monologue.

Update: Be prepared for snow showers in Southwest Pa. Monday morning