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About Kobe

Last week—pissed me off—some dude on X bragged ‘bout “classy escorts.” Classy? Ha! Like lipstick on a pig. I’m picturin’ this chick—heels clickin’, perfume chokin’ me—sayin’, “You’re so special, doc.” Bullshit. Reminds me of *Her*: “I can’t live in your book anymore.” Yeah, lady, I ain’t your fairy tale either. Prostitutes don’t love ya—they clock in, clock out. Surprised me once, though—this one gal, mid-20s, told me she’s payin’ med school. Med school! Swear to God, I nearly hugged her—then remembered the germs.

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I find comfort in both French Kissing and Anal Sex (depends on the size). I'm a sucker for a good sense of humor and a kind heart. Young Skinny Chinese Whore.

So, I roll outta bed, and my first thought? Coffee. I hit up this tiny café on Kagawa Street. Best coffee ever! Seriously, it’s like liquid happiness. I grab my cup and sit outside, soaking in the vibes. The locals are chill, just going about their day. I’m thinking, “This is the life.”

A cute Russian character transformed into yummy Japanese doughnuts? Yes, please!