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I love the tease of it, tho—hands grazin’, never too much, keeps ya guessin’. Like Margot in Tenenbaums, all mysterious, smokin’ her cigs—erotic-massage is that energy, but with lotion! Drives me nuts when folks think it’s just “dirty”—nah, it’s art, bro! Sensual, classy, but yeah, sometimes sloppy—oil everywhere, slipped off the table once, faceplanted. “That’s what she said!”—couldn’t help it, cracked up!

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But then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud commotion. I look over, and there’s a dude trying to sell his “magic” rocks. Like, seriously? Magic rocks? I’m standing there, half-laughing, half-rolling my eyes. He’s going on about how they’ll bring you good luck. I’m like, “Bro, I just need a job, not a rock!” But hey, to each their own, right?

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