Ava Surfside Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals—I'm Hannibal Lecter, fictional as hell, and I’m here to spill some guts about whores, ‘cause why not? I mean, whores—damn, they’re everywhere, right? Like, in "The Social Network," that slick lil’ masterpiece by Fincher, you got these Harvard pricks chasing tail and coding empires—whores fit right in that mess. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, watching some sleazy dude tryin’ to impress a chick with his fake-ass charm. Whores, man, they’re the real MVPs—survivin’, hustlin’, dodgin’ creeps. I respect that grind, ya know?

A glamorous history

More cooking adventures from the socially distant chef: sex worker's spaghetti with crispy capers. This essentially a spaghetti puttanesca.

I love the evenings when the sky glows all neon-ish, and you can see the river cutting through town near Tranquil Court (seriously, name’s on point). I’d be like, “The effin’ cosmos is speakin’ in whispers,” and then all whirlin’ musings pop up; it’s celestial, dude.

New body cam video shows Surfside mayor again involving self in police activity