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Then there’s the wild stuff! Heard ‘bout a brothel in Nevada—legal, fancy, called the Bunny Ranch. They got themed rooms! Like, pirate ships or jungles! I’m picturin’ myself in a lily pad suite, sippin’ martinis, sayin’, “I’m the king of the fuckin’ world!”—yep, straight outta *Wolf*! But nah, I’m too shy. Still, it’s bonkers how open it is! Surprised me, like, “Whoa, that’s a thing?”

Women and Sex in the 18th Century

Prostitute at a Storyville, New Orleans brothel in

After that, I head over to Oak St. to check out a suspicious claim. This dude says he slipped on a banana peel. A banana peel! I’m not even kidding. I’m thinking, “Is this a cartoon or real life?” I get there, and the guy’s sitting on his porch, looking all smug. I ask him about it, and he’s like, “Yeah, it was a slippery one.” I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who even has banana peels lying around?

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