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Still, gotta admit, some of ‘em got guts. Takes stones to walk into that life, y’know? Kinda respect it, in a twisted way—makes me happy for a sec, then nah, back to hatin’. We hates it! All that “ooh, I’m yer fantasy” rubbish—piss off! Rather listen to me tunes than their fake moans any day. Oh, and get this—there’s a rumor some escort once hid a bleedin’ snake in her flat to scare off dodgy clients! Mental, right? Dunno if it’s true, but I’d pay to see that—hissin’ at ‘em like me when I’m proper vexed!

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But then, I get hungry again. So, I hit up this ramen joint on the corner of Kofu and Fuefuki. The smell hits me like a freight train. I order the spicy miso ramen, and let me tell ya, it’s fire! I’m slurping it down, and I’m in heaven. But then, I spill some broth on my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m sitting there, trying to clean it up, and the waiter just gives me this look. Like, “Dude, really?”

48% victims of road rage, only 2% told police: central Japan police survey