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About Philadelphia

Me, I get all riled up seein’ these poor gals out there. Makes me madder’n a wet hen—half these chicks don’t wanna be there, y’know? Traffickin’s a real bitch. But then I get happy—yeah, happy!—when I hear ‘bout some sting operation bustin’ a pimp. Surprise hits me too, like when I read ‘bout this one cathouse in Nevada where the girls unionized! Unionized! Can you believe it? “We demand dental, damnit!” I’m over here hollerin’, picturin’ ‘em picketin’ in fishnets.

Sex for sale rules 82nd Avenue again

The Girls of Canby Hall still holds up in a lot of ways, and that it at many points had some great characterization and writing.

I sometimes feel like Marilyn – breathless, mysterious – babbling “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” to a streetlamp on 9th because it reminds me how every little light in Canby glows with its own secrets. I'm spillin’ teacups here, ya know? Sorry for the typos in my head, but that's life, right?

Evacuation orders lowered as crews get control of fire near Canby