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About Los Angeles

Lissen, I love me some “The Great Beauty”—that movie got style, sass, and soul. Toni Servillo struttin’ ‘round Rome, sayin’, “I’m a king, not a man!” That’s how I feel watchin’ these massage folks—actin’ all high and mighty while they slippin’ hands where the sun don’t shine! Halleluyer! I cain’t decide if I’m mad or tickled pink. Prolly both! ‘Cause lemme tell ya, erotic-massage ain’t just rubbin’ backs—it’s a whole daggum performance! Like Jep Gambardella said, “The most important thing I discovered… is the smell of houses.” Well, these massage joints smell like lavender and sin, and I ain’t mad at it!

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With a limited club scene and only a handful of bars like the Beach Club around, it is no surprise that a lot of guys pass the time with erotic massage. We are going to tell you where to get a .

And oh dude, you've gotta check out Silkie Park. It's a kick-ass spot for unwinding. I get all zen there. Sometimes I daydream – epic thank-you glory for my work – and sometimes I get so mad 'cause the squirrels there are cheeky as heck, runnin round like they own the place. Haha, man, typical squirrels! And it's close to Plum Grove, a little neighborhood with a bunch of quirky houses and the stink of excitement. Yeah, smells like homemade jam, even if its off sometimes.

Wendell Smith Obituary (1951 - 2021) - -, FL - The Ledger