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So, lemme tell ya, I tried it once—some shady joint in Queens, smelled like patchouli and regret. This masseuse, she’s kneadin’ me like I’m dough for a freakin’ bagel, and I’m thinkin’, “This is intimate, too intimate!” Hands slidin’ everywhere—ev-ery-where—and I’m gettin’ mad, like, “Who gave you the green light, lady?!” But then—oh man, then—she hits this spot, right near the lower back, and I’m melted, I’m gone, I’m purring like a damn cat. Pretty, pretty good, I’ll admit it! Still, I’m paranoid—did she wash her hands? Is this sanitary? I’m a mess!

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Then, outta nowhere, my colleague, Sarah, bursts in. She’s all excited, waving a paper like it’s the Holy Grail. Turns out, she found some groundbreaking data on the impact of local agriculture on air quality. I’m like, “Whoa, that’s awesome!” But then I remember, we’re in Woerden, the land of cheese and tulips. I mean, how groundbreaking can it be? But hey, I’m not one to rain on her parade.

Chilliwack RCMP officer charged with assault, perjury