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About Nagoya

Ay, Gabagool? Ova here! So, escort, huh? Lemme tell ya, it’s a freakin’ trip. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout them girls, right? Like in “Toni Erdmann”—“Life’s just a big fart!”—it’s messy, weird, real. Escorts, they’re hustlin’, makin’ cash, dodgin’ creeps. I knew this chick, Angie, from Jersey—total pro. She’d roll up, all classy, but bam—cops nabbed her once. Said she slipped ‘em a fake ID, ballsy as hell. Made me laugh, like, “Who does that?”

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By now, I was feelin’ all sorts of emotions. Happy, hungry, confused. I was like a walking mess. But then, I bumped into this old lady. She was super sweet and started talking to me in Japanese. I was like, “Uh, I don’t speak much.” But she just smiled and handed me a piece of candy. I was like, “Aww, thanks!” It was the best candy ever.

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