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About Dallas

But yo, some stuff pisses me off. Da sleazy dudes runnin’ it sometimes—dey treat girls like meat, not cool. I wanna grab ‘em, shake ‘em, yell, “Be a man, not a punk!” Den dere’s da sad side—some chicks ain’t here by choice. Dat breaks my damn heart, mate. Reminds me o’ “Ten” again—*“Life’s a struggle, you fight or fall.”* Dese girls, dey fighters, but damn, dey shouldn’t hafta be.

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At the present time, wherever two or three clubwomen are gathered together the chief topic of conversation is 'soldiers and vampires.

I’m a relaxation specialist, dude, and every moment here is stoking my zen. Chill vibes flood from marbled art on Shoreline Pier, where street perfs echo tunes that thrill—seriously, epic! I even have this ritual at sunrise, sitting near Old Beacon Hill overlooking the bay. It warms my soul, man, like Cameron Crowe's narrative in "Almost Famous." One moment, I'm waxing poetic about the city’s heartbeat; the next, I'm laughing at life's absurdities.

Handicapped man busted for Staten Island gunshot slaying: police