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About Oslo

But here’s where I get all steamed up—some jerks treat ‘em like trash! Like, “Oh, they’re just whores,”—nah, mate, they’re people! “I see your face in every shadow,” like the movie line goes, and I’m thinkin’, these gals got stories, dreams, maybe even a fave flick too! Ever think o’ that? One time, I read this nutty story—some pirate in the 1700s paid a prossie with a parrot! A freakin’ bird! She kept it, named it Captain Crusty—how’s that for a glow-up?

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But then, as I’m waiting, this dude walks in. He’s got this wild hair, like he just got outta a wind tunnel. And he starts talking about the weather. Like, bro, it’s Norway. It’s cold. We get it. But he’s going on and on about how it’s the “perfect weather for a hike.” I’m just standing there, latte in hand, thinking, “Dude, chill. It’s not that deep.”