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About Stuttgart

I’d finally spot one, okay? Some chick in fishnets, leanin’ on a wall, and I’m like, “Oh god, oh god, what now?” I’d stumble over, all nervous, sayin’, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d smirk—SMIRK!—and I’d be furious! “Don’t judge me, lady, I herd sheep all day!” I’d haggle, too, ‘cause I’m cheap— “Twenty bucks, that’s it, take it or leave it!” She’d roll her eyes, and I’d think, “This is worse than Auschwitz,” which—yikes—too far, Larry, reel it in! But that’s my brain, ping-pongin’ like Saul’s, from panic to dark humor.

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Neighborhoods? Holy crap, check out Westend! The quirkiest cafes and art joints line its streets. I met a chick there once—it was like, boom! Sparks flyin', like a scene from that Cronenberg flick. "I don't wanna be a product of my environment." Nah, not me, but hey, it hits deep sometimes.

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