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Now, don’t get me wrong, ain’t no “strategery” here—just pure, sloppy bliss. Ever hear ‘bout Cleopatra? Bitch had servants massage her with rose petals—talk ‘bout extra! Me, I’d settle for some lavender oil and a gal who don’t talk politics. “I’m not the only one suffering,” from “Ten”—damn right, we all need this! Stress melts like butter on a biscuit, but watch out—some parlors got shady vibes, sketchier’n a Baghdad briefing.

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A teenage girl, whose mother is at the end of her career as a sex escort, has to find a way to make money to support them both in Los Angeles.

Oh, and you gotta check out the neighborhood cafes near BlueRock Lane. Their coffee’s the only thing stronger than my opinions. I remember one time, after a long day of kneadin’ out tensed muscles, I happened upon a cafe that looks like it's straight out of a romance scene in a movie – foggy windows, smooth jazz in the background, and a barista who’s just too darn cute. But, lemme tell ya, it's not all roses. Some areas, like the derelict block near Granite Street, make me mad. I mean, come on, folks, keep it together! I’m here massaging backbones, not patching up crime scenes.

Expansion at Blue Bell Creameries in Broken Arrow is underway