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About Phoenix

Here’s a lil’ factoid—didja know back in the old days, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret codes? Like, a red ribbon meant “I’m free,” but two ribbons? “Bring a buddy!” Wild, huh? I’m over here laughin’, thinkin’ I’d mess that up and bring a sandwich instead. Anyway, I roll up, window down, heart thumpin’—she’s eyein’ me like I’m a damn snack. “What you want, sugar?” she says, all smoky. I’m sweatin’ like a pig in a bacon factory, thinkin’, “Man, this is it!”

Ten signs an Airbnb or short-term rental property is being used as a pop-up brothel

I’ll tell ye, sometimes I get mad ’bout how people overlook the beauty in mistakes, like a misprinted map! But then, I'll hear the idle chatter in the rustle of autumn leaves in Cedar Park – and I’m reminded: every flawed treasure leads ye to somethin’ rare. I love this patch of earth even when it drives me nuts; it’s a grand paradox of beauty and struggle...just like me, mate!

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