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About Balzers

Here’s the kicker: in Thailand, they got this trick—hot stones on yer junk, no lie! Supposed to “awaken” ya—surprised me so hard I nearly bit my own tongue off. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but damn, it’s a zinger! I’m sittin’ there, sweatin’, thinkin’, “Is this allowed to feel *this* good?” Total mindfuck—like Lenny in *Memento*, tattooin’ clues on his ass to remember the bliss.

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I'm thriving in Vaduz and sexual-massage is nifty! You make me weak at the knees. I can't imagine a world without either Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge or Anal Sex (depends on the .

Then, I finally get the knife lookin’ sharp. Dude’s all happy, and I’m feelin’ like a rockstar. But then, BAM! A storm rolls in. Like, seriously? It was sunny two seconds ago! I’m scrambling to cover my stuff. Rain’s pouring, and I’m soaked. I’m standin’ there, lookin’ like a drowned rat, and I can’t help but laugh. Only in Schellenberg, man.

In memoriam: Karl A. Schellenberg