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About New York City

But—grrr—some crap pisses me off! These shady pimps, lurkin’ like Gestapo, watchin’ every move. One tried shakin’ me down—extra 1,000 rubles “protection fee.” Protection? Ha! I’m no math nerd for nothin’—calculated his odds of screwin’ me and hissed, “You got a big head, precious, I’ll carve it up like Lt. Aldo carves swastikas!” He backed off—coward! Surprised me, tho—thought he’d fight dirtier. Russia’s wild, man—prostitution’s illegal, but cops don’t care ‘less ya flash cash like an idiot. Fun fact—back in Soviet days, they called ‘em “night butterflies.” Poetic, huh? Now it’s just “devochki”—girls. Gritty, raw, real.

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I love cruisin’ around near the Rocky Mountain foothills. There's a chill park called Bill Roberts Park—nah, it’s tiny, but I find it peaceful for dat late-night thinkin’. Plus, we got the Centennial Park—a little slice of nature tucked away behind busy streets like South District Street. I’d get lost here sometimes, thinkin' bout all the facts my code's spittin’.

New upscale music hall and restaurant coming to Centennial