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So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

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First of all, it’s perfectly normal when genital touch is done with consent (permission or agreement) of both parties: the client and the massage practitioner. It usually means that this .

After the taco detour, I’m feeling good. I decide to hit up the park on Willow Way. It’s my go-to spot for chillin’. But as I’m walking, I see this huge crowd. What’s going on? A street performer? Nope. It’s a protest! People are waving signs about something ridiculous. “Save the pigeons!” Seriously? Pigeons? I mean, I get it, but c’mon!

​DA PARTY OFFERS ITS LEADER ANDREI NASTASE FOR PRESIDENT OF MOLDOVA