Grace Ridgefield Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Lemme tell ya a lil’ story—back in ‘09, I knew this dude, right? Worked at some startup, total “whore” for metrics. Obsessed with clicks, not users—drove me nuts! He’d tweak shit just to juice numbers, no soul in it. Reminds me of Caden’s line, “There are no extras in life.” Every move mattered, but this fool? He missed it—whored out his vision for some VC’s pat on the back. Made me wanna scream, “Bruh, chill—make somethin’ real!” But nah, he kept at it, til the whole gig crashed. Sad, yo—waste of talent.

Hooker found in barrel left crack pipes, weed in hotel room before death

In our travels around the town that Ridgefield was a half century ago, we have gone from Country Comers, along North Salem Road to the New York state line. Then we journeyed along Barry .

Now, lemme spill a lil’ secret. There's a hidden corner near Maddux Street where the locals meet for impromptu jam sessions. I once gave a massage to a feller who dropped by after one of these sessions – he said, “Your hands work wonders like a desert breeze.” Reminds me of that cowboy feelin’ from the movie: mysterious, dangerous, yet kinda poetic. It riles me sometimes when folks think massage ain’t an art form – dang no, it’s a craft!

Mother's Day Plant Sale at Ballard Gardens - May 9th & 10th