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Findin’ one? Psh, ya gotta know the signs. Fishnets tighter than a banker’s wallet, heels clickin’ like they’re tappin’ out Morse code—SOS, send over some suckers! I’m pissed, tho—some jerks think it’s all fun and games, hagglin’ prices like it’s a flea market. Nah, dude, respect the hustle! Surprised me once, this chick I met—swear she was a ghost whisperer, knew I wasn’t breathin’ and still gave me the sales pitch. Ballsy! Loved that. “You’re not like the others,” she says—damn right, I’m freakin’ Beetlejuice!

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Oh man, and don't even get me started on the rivers. Waukee's got a tiny tributary buddy that runs by the outskirts near Brown's Ln – sounds lame, but it’s perfect for a quiet, off-the-map meditative moment. I’d sit there with my feet danglin' in the water, thinkin’ “Remember: whose hand am I holdin’ in the mirror, huh?” Crazy stuff, am I right?

Celebrating the Beichleys: Decades of Dedication to Waukee Students