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Anyways, I’m strollin’, tryna play it cool. Heart’s racin’—part excited, part “what am I doin’?” Then this dude—total creep—yells, “Hey, greenie, she’s mine!” Made me mad as heck! I’m like, “Back off, pal, I ain’t no coward!” Felt like Bob Ford sneakin’ around Jesse’s house, all tense. “I can’t hardly breathe,” I mutter, quotin’ the movie.

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Let’s talk neighborhoods. The West End is edgy, kinda rough but bursting with life. Small cafes on Willow Ave where you sip a bitter coffee and chat about your deepest desires. I'm a sexologist, so I always catch the subtle flirt of human energy. The way couples lock eyes in dim-lit bars on Vine Street? It’s almost erotic – like a secret invitation. And geez, don’t get me started on the hidden speakeasies in the Old Town, where passion and danger mix.

100 days in, California is suing Trump at almost double the pace of his first term