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About Kobe

I’m chattin’ her up—price, rules, whatever. She’s cool, but I’m pissed—hate the hagglin’. “What am I, a fuckin’ flea market?” I think. Still, she’s got sass—calls me “Mr. Fancy Pants.” Cheeky bitch! Makes me grin tho—happy as a pig in shit. Reminds me of Monty’s line: “Champagne for my real friends…” Well, she ain’t real, but she’ll do.

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So, we finally get to work. I’m translating like a pro, and it’s going great. But then, the client starts telling this super emotional story. I’m feeling it, you know? Like, I’m getting all choked up. And then, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, asking if I wanna grab dinner later. I’m like, “Dude, I’m in the middle of something here!” But I can’t ignore it. So, I text back, “Later!”

Trying the peach custard treat in Japan that got over 20 thousand likes in a week