Camila Ridgewood Whore ❤️

About San Jose

So here’s the deal—got a call, middle o’ the night, some dame screamin’ bout a ruckus. I roll up, cigar in mouth, thinkin’, “Great, another night in paradise.” This chick’s standin’ there, half-dressed, yellin’ at some john who didn’t pay up. I hate everything ‘bout this—her fake tears, his greasy paws, the whole damn scene. “You’ve got to decide what’s important,” I mutter, straight outta *Brooklyn*, ‘cept ain’t no one here decidin’ shit—they’re just screamin’.

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I tried quite a few places in Ridgewood last week but had no luck. I ended up getting mine from Wegman's at Astor Place. I'm intrigued by.

keepin' it real: life here is balanced on crazy antics and chill nights. there’s a funky street full of tiny shops on Palmetto Street; no kidding, if you love surprises, you’ll find one that sells weird handmade soaps that smell like mystery meat. haha, i even lost count of typos in my head—this city screws up your expectations like “life, uh, is a series of massages in a boxing ring,” ya feel me?

Ridgewood expands food composting program. See how to participate