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Sarcasm time—yeah, cuz milkin machines preps me for this, totally! I’d suck at it, prolly trip over my own feet, laughin my ass off. “I can see Russia from my house!”—and apparently the red-light district too! Movie vibes aside, it’s gritty, messy, real—kinda like *Inherent Vice*, no neat endings. You try it, lemme know—don’t fuck it up!

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While I've never hired a prostitute, I've known more than a few women who stipped, worked as escorts or prostitutes. I've met some women with some pretty outside the bellcurve paraphilas Missing: Sabana Seca.

When I get there, Max is just lying there, looking all sad and pathetic. I can’t help but laugh a little. I mean, he’s got this tiny scratch on his nose, and he’s acting like he’s been through a war. I patch him up, and the owner, this sweet old lady, offers me some pastelón. I’m like, “Lady, I’m here to save your dog, not eat!” But you know what? I couldn’t resist. That pastelón was bomb!

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