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About Amsterdam

Oh, and the outfits—lordy! Glitter, heels, fake lashes—makes me jealous, then sad. I’m in this apron, hair like a blue mop, while they’re out there sparklin’. But then—hmm…—I think, “Marge, you’re no Dae-su, trapped and fightin’.” I’m free, sorta. Still, escort’s a hustle I couldn’t hack—too nervy, too nuts!

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First off, I’m cruising down the Heusdenhoutseweg, thinking about my coffee fix. I mean, who can function without caffeine? Not me! I swing by that little café on the corner of de Kuilen. You know the one? The barista, Lisa, she’s always got a smile. But today? Ugh, she spills my cappuccino all over the counter. I’m like, “Really? Is this how we start the day?”