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About Los Angeles

I’m hagglin’—badly, mind ye—’cause I’m three sheets to the wind, an’ she’s sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a construct,” she snaps, like I’m some bleedin’ actor in Kaufman’s play, an’ I’m thinkin’, *lass, ye’ve no idea!* That got me riled, aye—don’t ye dare call Cap’n Jack a puppet! But then she winks, an’ I’m happy as a clam, ‘cause she’s got sass, an’ I like ‘em feisty. “Savvy?” I slur, an’ she rolls her eyes—fair ‘nough!

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A paranormal escort service. That kind of thing can't possibly exist, right? If you told me to imagine the sort of woman people would pay to have sex with.

So, dear friend, pack your bags and come witness weedy Draper—its quirky corners, gentle rivers, and warm spots similar to the quirky charm of the Tenenbaums. We'll share tales, massaged muscles, and a hearty laugh at the absurdities of life, hsss. Draper, our precious Draper, awaits you with open arms and a million secrets, oh yes, so very precious!

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