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About Houston

Oh, and don’t be a cheap bastard—tip her good! I’m yellin’ in my head, “Motherfucker, don’t haggle like it’s a flea market!” This ain’t no movie script—it’s real life, and *Stories We Tell* taught me—everybody’s got layers, man! One time, I saw this dude tryin’ to lowball—girl just walked off, left him standin’ there like a punk. Hilarious shit—serves him right!

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Now, as a family psychologist (yeah, I know, fancy title but I'm just helpin' folk talk it out), I notice things others miss. Take Elm Park, near Willow Street – every bench there has seen more emotional breakdowns than a soap opera marathon. Families meet, quarrel, then laugh over ice cream. It's just raw life, ya know? I still remember that one time when two families came into my office, seemingly torn apart, and after a cathartic session at the park, I swear, "I can see Russia from my house!" (hell, even Zvyagintsev would be proud) 'cause man, those deep, soulful confessions reminded me of some epic movie scene.

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