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Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes, right? I’m sittin here, pinky-to-mouth, Dr. Evil style, “One million dollars,” thinkin how these gals got more guts than half the blokes I know. Watched “Inglourious Basterds” last night—bloody brilliant, Tarantino’s a mad genius—and it hit me, prostitutes are like them Nazi-huntin bastards, y’know? Workin in shadows, dodgin danger, takin no shit. “That’s a bingo!” as Hans Landa’d say, they’re playin a game most couldn’t handle.

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Each person involved as a model, escort, or service provider affirms their legal adulthood (at least 18 years old).

Then, I head over to the Tomigusuku Market. It’s buzzing with life! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all sorts of local goodies. I’m in heaven. I grab some mangoes, and they’re so sweet, I could cry. But then, I see this guy trying to haggle over a pineapple. He’s like, “I’ll give you 200 yen!” and the vendor’s like, “Nah, man, it’s 500!” I’m just standing there, thinking, “Dude, just pay the 500 yen. It’s a pineapple!”

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