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About Phoenix

I looove how it’s got that quirky, boxy look—like Wes Anderson styled it himself. “What’s wrong with you?!” I’d yell at haters who dissed it. Ugly? Nah, it’s got soul, boo! My fave’s the ‘91 GT model—sporty, zippy, 127 horsepower, whew! Made me happy as hell, ‘til I saw gas prices—lordy, that pissed me off! $5 a gallon? Robbery! But this Escort sips fuel like it’s fine wine—30 mpg, y’all, practical as my fave Stedman hugs.

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The neighborhoods... oh, deary me, they’re a patchwork. Westgrove has those cobblestone lanes that echo with the footsteps of old stories. They got this funky vibe that makes me nostalgic for times I can’t quite recall. It's like, “What's real? What's not?” Just like the movie says, "It's all an illusion, a dream." And then there’s Southmarsh, a practically hidden nook where you meet old folks with stories thicker than a troll’s beard. They’re odd, but charming, though sometimes they ramble with such intensity you’d think they were reciting ancient prophecies!

Modern periodontal therapy for all: Dental office debuts in Ivy Hall