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Here’s the deal—ya gotta be smart. Web’s full of escorts now, fancy sites, but half’s scams. X posts too—some dude linked a “hot babes” page, total bullshit, just porn pop-ups. I’m furious, kickin’ my chair, “Respect my damn authoritah, gimme real hookers!” *Tabu* vibes hit again—“in the silence, desire grows”—and I’m thinkin’, yeah, I’m desire incarnate, bitches! Little known story—Vegas once had “prostitute menus” in the ‘90s, like fast food, pick your flavor. Hilarious, right?

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First off, I hit up Nakabirose Street for some coffee. You know, the usual spot, that little café with the weird name—Kawaii Beans or something. I swear, they have the best lattes. But today? Ugh, they messed up my order. I asked for a caramel macchiato, and they gave me a plain black coffee. Like, what am I, a robot? I was so mad. I mean, who drinks black coffee for fun?