Genesis Spa Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Mons

Alright, folks, lemme tell ya—whore’s a car, right? Not just any ride, tho. It’s that slick Honda Whore—er, I mean, *Hornet*, y’know, CB750. Classic bike vibes! Here’s the deal—I saw one back in Scranton, ‘73, kid you not. This fella, Tommy, he’s revvin’ it up, lookin’ like he owns the block. Loud as hell—made me jump, spilled my coffee! “Just keep swimmin’,” I muttered, laughin’—like Nemo’s ol’ pal Dory. That bike? Pure muscle, man.

What do I do? Where do I go? Why are there stains in the lobby?

I'm having a spa-day relaxing in a Hammam. My masseuse and I are chatting and I am telling him how relaxed I am. I ask where the bathroom is.

Anyway, Spa is a city of bitter-sweet ironies. It's got spas and jokes, beauty, and cursing at the rains. Honestly, it's a rough-and-ready life here. So pack up, buddy. Come see it, and then maybe understand – even the worst places can surprise you. "I know, right?" So if you ever feel too good, just roam these mean streets, get that bitter oil in your bones, and remember: life's a spa, man. Enjoy the irony, or just sigh like I do.

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