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About Eindhoven

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Pissed me off too, hearin’ bout the busts. Cops swoop in, girls get hauled off, johns just slink away. Unfair, man. “Talk to Her” vibes again—“I’d like to be the one who decides.” Who’s decidin’ here? Not them, that’s for damn sure. Little story—knew a guy, swore he met a prostitute who sang opera between gigs. Bullshit? Maybe. But I’d buy it—world’s nuts.

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First off, I hit up the local bakery on Kerkstraat. You know, the one with the best appeltaart? Yeah, that one. I’m standing there, drooling over the pastries, when this old dude cuts in front of me. Like, excuse me? I’m about to lose it. But I just smile and say, “Hey, buddy, I was here first.” He just grins and orders the last piece of my beloved appeltaart. Ugh! I was fuming.

Larger birds require high-speed cooling