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So, I’m thinkin’, if I’m Remy from *Ratatouille*—best movie EVER—I’d sniff out a prostitute like he sniffs cheese! “Anyone can cook,” he says, but can anyone FIND a hooker? Hmmm! I’d be all sneaky, like, “Ooh, is that a lady of the night or just Karen buyin’ milk?” Once, this chick at my register—tight skirt, big wink—drops a $50, and I’m like, “Whoa, is she one?!” Made me happy, ‘cause—cashier life’s boring, ya feel? But then—ugh—she just wanted gum. Total letdown, so mad!

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There's Rue de la Liberté, yeah, that one near the old brick bakery – the scent of fresh baguettes fills the air, and I keep sippin’ my coffee there. Then ya got Place du Marché – a lively square with local vendors, chattin’ nonstop about politics, love, and mud. I tell ya, if you don’t chat up the stall owners, ya might as well be an idiot sandwich!

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