Rose Loomis Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

So, I’m stompin’ round, lookin’ for a good time, right? Ain’t no saint, me—blood on hands, scars on face, but I got needs! Dis one time, saw a gal, fishnets rippin’, smokin’ a cig like she owns da night. “Lightbulb!”—she’s got dat look, ya know, like she could lure ya in and gut ya. Straight outta dat movie, “I collect things”—she prob collects wallets, ha! I go up, all cocky, “How much, eh?” She smirks, “More dan ya soul, big boy.” Pissed me off—cheeky tart!—but damn, I laughed. Ain’t dat a kicker?

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Randy: There are certain RULES that one must abide by in order to successfully survive a horror movie. For instance, number one: you can never have sex.

Ohhh, my precious, let me tell ya 'bout PLoomis (us), yess, precious! Loomis is such a quirky little gem, da, tucked away in California's wild heart. Ahhh, where do I even start? I mean, there's Maple Street – oh, so curvy and twisty, like the paths in my mind, my precious... then there's the old oak-lined Elms Lane. It’s sooo serene, it makes yer heart sing, yess, it does.

Ronald G. Loomis Obituary - Visitation & Funeral Information