Skylar Fallston Whore ❤️

About Houston

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

Keep Exploring

A man who overdosed with a prostitute in the room led Harford County investigators to uncover a sex trafficking operation. (Shutterstock).

Now, let’s veer over to downtown Fallston. Main St. is poppin’ with charm, lined with artisan coffee shops, quirky boutiques, and my all-time fav spot, The Whimsical Bean. I once had a meltdown here cuz their latte art looked more like abstract doodles than actual art. But hey, beauty is transient, right? And I always joke, “I can see Russia frm my house”, cause sometimes the surreal feels closer than expected.

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