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About Bordeaux

But—grrr—some crap pisses me off! These shady pimps, lurkin’ like Gestapo, watchin’ every move. One tried shakin’ me down—extra 1,000 rubles “protection fee.” Protection? Ha! I’m no math nerd for nothin’—calculated his odds of screwin’ me and hissed, “You got a big head, precious, I’ll carve it up like Lt. Aldo carves swastikas!” He backed off—coward! Surprised me, tho—thought he’d fight dirtier. Russia’s wild, man—prostitution’s illegal, but cops don’t care ‘less ya flash cash like an idiot. Fun fact—back in Soviet days, they called ‘em “night butterflies.” Poetic, huh? Now it’s just “devochki”—girls. Gritty, raw, real.

Laws and Regulations Regarding Prostitution

Then, outta nowhere, this pigeon swoops down and snatches a baguette right outta my hand! I’m like, “What the heck, dude?” I’m standing there, baguette-less, while this bird is living its best life. I swear, that pigeon had the audacity of a king.

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