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About San Diego

I see this one gal, all sass, leanin on a wall. “What’s your name?” I holler, flexin a bit—can’t help it, brother! She’s like, “What’s it to ya?” and I’m dyin, man, she’s got attitude! Reminds me of that line, “You think you’re God?” from the flick—sassy, testin ya! I’m happy as hell, love a chick with fire, but then—bam!—some creep rolls up, yellin at her. Pissed me off, brother! Ain’t nobody messin with a lady on my watch!

So you want to book a sex worker?

Now, lemme drop some less-known intel: behind the old mill near River Bend, there's a secret nook reserved for quiet musing – my personal retreat. I once sat there and whispered, "C'est la vie," while watching ripples of water carry old dreams downstream. It struck me, much like the pianist’s haunting verses, “Here I am, a maid of sorrow…,” except in my case, it was pure glee tinged with mischief!

Shooting at downtown Oakland restaurant wounds two, riddles window