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About Phoenix

Picture this, I’m cruisin’ the streets, lookin’ for a hooker to prove my point, right? I’d be all, “What’s your deal, lady? Why this job?” Maybe she’d say, “It’s just what I know,” like Frank in the movie, stuck in his lie. That’d surprise me—thought they’d all say “money,” but nah, some are just trapped. Kinda sad, huh? But don’t tell me to feel bad, I’m Eric freakin’ Cartman, I don’t cry for nobody!

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Not all days are smooth, though. Sometimes, I get mad when traffic jams at Sunset Blvd slow me down. Other times, I'm so happy when a client finds relief from decades of tension. Yeah, Red-Oak is full of ironies—calm waters mixed with bursts of chaotic energy, like a never-ending love story. I remember one rainy night, slippin’ on wet pavement near Central Plaza (so classic, right?) and thinkin’, “En fin, life’s too short, just talk to her.”

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