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About San Jose

But then you get the creeps, don’t ya? The punters—sweaty, baldin’ tossers who reckon they’re God’s gift. “I’m a real man,” they’d slur, like in the film—*“I’m a gangster, a free man!”*—but nah, mate, you’re just a sad sack with a fiver. Makes me angry, that does, the entitlement. I’d wanna scream, “Oi, you wanker, she’s not your bloody therapist!” Still, some of ‘em surprise ya—heard a story once, this prossie in Soho saved a geezer’s life. He was chokin’ on a kebab, she Heimliched him—hero stuff! Didn’t expect that, did I? Nearly pissed myself laughin’ thinkin’ bout it.

A first-timer’s guide to booking a sex worker in Canada

Going to be visiting the Oxford / Anniston / Talladega area in April. Just wanted to see if any of my southern monger brothers can hook me.

Bruh, sometimes it gets me mad. The city’s history is messy. I mean, so many layers of pain and triumph. It’s like when Sarah Polley’s film reminds us, “We're all weaving our truths together.” And I can’t help but laugh when I think of it all – life’s absurd, man.

NASCAR to alter backstretch wall at Talladega after Christopher Bell impact