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But real talk—sometimes it’s awkward as heck. You’re there, butt up, tryin’ not to giggle or fart—lordy, the struggle! How’s that workin’ for ya, huh? I reckon it’s a gamble—good hands, you’re golden; bad ones, you’re countin’ ceiling tiles. Oh, and don’t get me started on the cost—$100 for an hour? Sheesh, I could buy a dang tractor for that! Exaggeratin’, sure, but it stings.

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hours after mechanical massage of the tonsils, the temperature of the palms in some patients increased by ≥1 °C. It is interesting that.

First thing, I hit up that little café on Shevchenka. You know the one? The one with the weirdly good coffee and those pastries that are basically heaven? Yeah, that place. I ordered a cappuccino and a “pampushka” (those garlic bread rolls, yum!). The barista, this dude named Vasyl, was all smiles. I was like, “Dude, how are you so chipper?” He just laughed and said, “Coffee magic, bro!” I mean, I get it, but chill, man.

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