Anyway I have mixed feelings about these places; on the one hand, you can’t beat the price, it’s the cheapest thrill in town (it’s the only thrill in town), but on the other hand, you have to tolerate the slightly annoying language barrier.
Once I entered my fifties, that’s it I guess, I’m no longer desirable. Put me out to pasture, I’m a fucking old cow.
When we trip and fall, we’re in our most human moment and there’s no redemption from it. No amount of money or fame can ease the embarrassment of tripping or falling down, we look stupid doing it, and there’s no getting around it.