Solicited in a High Class Geisha Club
“I think you are being inappropriate, sir. Please leave.” Then I picked up the closest ashtray and clocked him.
“I think you are being inappropriate, sir. Please leave.” Then I picked up the closest ashtray and clocked him.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”