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About Paris

So – escorts, huh? I dig ‘em. Sometimes. Classy ones – oh man. They walk in – heels clickin’. Confidence. Like they *own* the room. Reminds me – "I don’t remember forgettin’." That’s me with a good escort. Can’t recall the last dud. But the bad ones? Jesus – infuriates me! Fake smiles. Rob ya blind. Had one – true story – lifted my watch. Mid-date! Sneaky lil’ – I laughed tho. Ballsy move. Gotta respect it.

First off, I hit up Rue de la République for my morning coffee. You know, the usual spot. The barista, Marie, she’s cool, but today she was like a tornado of chaos. I ordered my usual, a café crème, and she spills half of it. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But hey, I laughed it off. It’s all good, right?

Hard day for Hofer at French Grand Prix