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About Houston

Findin’ a prostitute’s a gamble, innit? Some nights, they’re ghosts – poof! – gone. Others, they’re in your face, “Oi, love, want a go?” Pick wrong, you’re broke or busted. Pick right, maybe a laugh, a quick thrill. Me, I’m too skint, too scared, too – argh! – messed up. “Hang me, oh hang me,” I’d hum, trudgin’ home alone. Next time, precious, next time!

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Oh, and you gotta check out the neighborhood cafes near BlueRock Lane. Their coffee’s the only thing stronger than my opinions. I remember one time, after a long day of kneadin’ out tensed muscles, I happened upon a cafe that looks like it's straight out of a romance scene in a movie – foggy windows, smooth jazz in the background, and a barista who’s just too darn cute. But, lemme tell ya, it's not all roses. Some areas, like the derelict block near Granite Street, make me mad. I mean, come on, folks, keep it together! I’m here massaging backbones, not patching up crime scenes.

Blue Bell's Nostalgic New Flavor Will Get You Excited For Spring