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About Phoenix

Now, lemme ask ya—whaddya think they dream of? Quittin’? Love? Candy wanted a diner—servin’ pie, not ass. Cracked me up—pie over pussy, huh? Sarcasm’s my jam, but damn, I felt for her. “Words kill,” Godard’d say—escorts hear that daily, slurs and whispers. Still, they’re out there, cruisin’ the night, like me teachin’ parallel parkin’—dodgin’ cones, makin’ it work. So next time ya see ‘em, don’t just leer—think, man! What’s their story? Gets me all fired up—life’s messy, sexy, sad. Whaddya say—ain’t that a trip?

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Ok ok, lemme throw in some typos cuz who’s got time for perfect, eh? Srry if i get a bit carried away: “so, wen u stroll through Lutz, ya gotta soak in every nook, crnr, and alleyway,” no? It’s like the town teaches ya, the way a good story unfolds, bit by bit, sometimes with a hiccup – and thats ok!

Carbon monoxide poisoning may have sent several to hospital in Lutz: PCSO