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About Glasgow

So, escort, right? It’s like babysittin’ fat merchant tubs, makin’ sure no pirate—like meself, ha!—sneaks up an’ nicks their gold. Back in the day, them Royal Navy swabs’d escort convoys, all prim ‘n proper, cannons polished, sails stiff as a lord’s wig. Little known bit, arrgh—durin’ the Seven Years’ War, 1750s, them Frenchies lost nigh on 300 ships ‘cause their escorts buggered off chasin’ glory! Left the traders floppin’ like fish on deck, an’ me kind swooped in, savvy? Made me laugh ‘til me gut hurt, thinkin’ o’ them pompous admirals red-faced ‘n screamin’.

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I got a soft spot for a boozy little joint on Burnside Alley. Place’s a dump to some but a hidden gem to me. It’s where I once met a bloke spoutin’ lines like, “Spring Breakers is da best flick,” and I was like, “Oh heck yes! Respect my freakin’ opinion!” It’s weird, man, how the city's little quirks mix up with my biz – a little massage, a little misbehavin’, and a ton of attitude.

Tarleton State Women’s Golf’s Jimenez named WAC Co-Coach of the Year, Depadt WAC Co-Golfer of the Year