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About San Jose

So, I hit up Newark, shady spots, y’know? Where the lights flicker like they’re drunk. This chick, she’s standin’ there, leanin’ on a pole, skirt shorter than my patience. I roll up, window down, “Hey, sweetheart, you workin’?” She’s like, “Maybe, whatchu got?” I’m thinkin’, “I don’t even know anymore,” like Bill Murray mumblin’ to Scarlett Johansson. That line, “The more you know who you are,” yeah, it’s spinnin’ in my head, but I’m too horny to care.

So you want to book a sex worker?

www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up .

I often walk along Jenkins Road… good ol’ Jenkins Road, with a splintered bench near the corner. I sat there once—feelin’ mad, angry, then happy, all at once. Sh*t, it was bizarre. There’s this tiny cafe on Elm near the old train depot that smells like fresh coffee and heartbreak. People come in, spill their guts, and, uh, I nod like.

Keyser softball powers way over Moorefield in 7-3 victory