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About Norrkoping

Hiss! Me, Gollum, raspy voice—actuary in Russia, yesss! Findin’ a prostitute, eh, tricky business, my precious! Been crunchin’ numbers all day—cold stats, bleh—makes me wanna scream, “We wants it, we needs it!” Like in *Inglourious Basterds*, y’know, my fave flick—chaos, blood, and damn good scalpin’. So, prostitutes here? Sneaky, precious, sneaky! Ya don’t just stroll Red Square and yell, “Hey, lass, how much?” Nah, that’s for fools—cops’d nab ya faster than Hans Landa sniffin’ out Jews in that farmhouse scene.

Are you an interpreter or a translator? Or looking for the best one?

www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up .

We decide to bail and hit the streets again. We wander down to the waterfront, and it’s beautiful. The sun’s setting, painting the sky all kinds of crazy colors. I’m feeling all poetic, like I should be writing this down. But then Erik trips over a rock and face-plants. I can’t help but laugh. He’s like, “Dude, I’m fine!” But he’s got dirt all over his face.

London’s National Portrait Gallery Acquires Five Self-Portraits by Female Artists