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But lemme tell ya, I’d be crap at it—too paranoid, jumpin’ at shadows. “Is that a cop?” I’d hiss, like Doc dodgin’ Bigfoot Bjornsen. Once heard a story—dude in Vegas got a hooker, turns out she’s his cousin! Swear on the Precious, nearly died laughin’. Imagine the awkward, “Jesus Christ, it’s Jason!” moment—pure gold. Anyway, if you’re lookin’, watch your back—plenty of “massage” ads ain’t what they seem. We swears! Stay sharp, or you’re screwed—and not the fun way. Gollum!

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So, I’m like, whatever, I’ll just grab a coffee at that cute little café on the corner of de Welle. I walk in, and it’s packed! I mean, come on, people! It’s just coffee! But I wait, because I need my caffeine fix. Finally, I get my latte, and it’s like liquid gold. I take a sip, and it’s perfect. Happy moment! But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right?

Figure 3. Taraxacum pseudohamatum growing as a weed in a garden...