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So, I’m thinkin—why’s this job pull folks in? Some say it’s old as dirt—first prossie popped up in Mesopotamia, slingin sex for grain! Ain’t that a hoot? Grain! I’d be pissed if Homer paid with donuts—hmm… maybe not, I’d eat ‘em. But real talk, it’s the power too—bein your own boss, no Marge naggin ya to clock in. Tho, gotta say, the stink o’ sleazy johns’d make me gag—ugh, so gross! Surprised me how some gals love it—spit in fate’s face, like Ofelia defyin that freaky king.

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Then, I decide to take a break. I hit up this little ramen shop on Kure’s main street. Best decision ever! The ramen is fire! I’m slurping away, and the owner, this old dude, starts chatting me up. He’s telling me about Kure’s history, how it used to be a naval base. I’m like, “Whoa, that’s cool!” I mean, who knew I was harvesting in a place with such a past?

Special Olympics hosts annual Polar Plunge in Kure Beach