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About New York City

I’ve tailed a few, y’know, part of the job. Once saw this gal, fancy heels, clickin’ down an alley—thought she was a CEO or somethin’. Nope! Escort. Blew my mind. Made me happy, tho—girl’s hustlin’, ownin’ it, no shame. But then, ugh, the pimps—those sleazy jerks make me wanna punch a wall. Exploitin’ folks, takin’ cuts, actin’ like they’re kings. Pisses me off! “There’s no mistakes, just happy accidents,” WALL-E’d say, but nah, that’s a mistake I’d love to fix with a fist.

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Hi handsome me name is Zoe. If a man knows how to eat my pussy right or fuck my the right way my pussy squirts! See you soon, Love, Zoe.

So, heed my ramblings. If you’re coming here, wander off the usual route. Dive into those narrow side streets, sip a too-strong coffee, and marvel at the unpolished charm. Muscatine may be quirky, mad, and downright annoying sometimes—but it’s real, raw, and always a little surprising. That's the truth, no sugarcoating. Enjoy it, or don't—I really don't care, 'cause in Muscatine, every day’s another quirky lie waiting to be told.

Obituary for Joyce Carter