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Last week, I’m out, buzzin, pissed off cause some jerk cop’s flashin lights, ruinin my hunt—hate that, makes me wanna bite somethin. Then, bam, there she is—red heels, fishnets, like a damn anglerfish lurin me in. “How much?” I ask, all smooth, voice like silk over a blade. She smirks, “More than you got, fancy pants.” Cheeky! Love that, got me laughin—happy as a shark in blood. “I’m not a child,” she snaps, straight outta “Ten,” that sass, that fire—surprised me, gotta say, didn’t expect a street gal to hit me with philosophy.

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I gotta mention the endless quirky corners. Uh, like Packer Ln. – woah, my spa’s right off it, surprising me with its little vintage stores n murals that scream self-love. Crazy, huh? I sometimes get so caught up in the vibe that I nearly miss appointments. LOL, my clients always laugh about that.

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