Delilah Foothill Farms Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

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.

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I was walking along Pineview one dawn. Got so hapy—it was "smoking hot", like Carol’s eyes, damn! I reckoned, "This city is definatly magical!" Then, outta nowhere, a rude jerk smelt my spa sign. Fustrated much!

Foothill Farms Center proposed for redevelopment as housing, new retail