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About Los Angeles

So, last week—d’oh!—I’m cruisin’ downtown, belly fulla donuts, lookin’ for some action. Streets are buzzin’, lights flashin’, and I’m like, “Marge’d kill me, but whatever!” You gotta dodge the cops, tho—sneaky bastards. Fun fact: back in old Rome, prostitutes wore blonde wigs to stand out. Crazy, right? Imagine that—blonde wig, high heels, waitin’ under a lamp post like some ninja from “The Assassin.” “She moves in silence,” like the movie says, and bam, there she is!

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Oh, and while I'm at it – streets are like personalities here. There's Martin Luther King Jr. Way with its culture and art; and just down the block on 196th St, you'll see murals that tell ancient tales, almost like secret messages from a hidden world. I once had a client literally sobbing while admiring the skyline from the spa – yeah, real life magic. It makes me mad sometimes how simple beauties are overshadowed by corporate grayness elsewhere, y'know? “Don’t pee on my leg!” I always say when some polish gets spilled all over our local pride.

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