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About Dallas

First off, I’m pissed—why’s it gotta be so shady? Dudes in sketchy corners, whisperin’ like they got secrets. I’m like, “Man, speak up!” Reminds me of that chick in *Ten*, drivin’ round, spillin’ her guts. “You’re not alone,” she says in the movie—ha! Tell that to me, sweatin’ bullets, dodgin’ cops. Little known fact, bro—back in the 90s, some spots had “prostitute maps” floatin’ round. Underground shit, like treasure hunts for horn-dogs. Wild, right?

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Latrobe can be mad frustratin’ too. I launched a feature on our site after a wild rant about the constant potholes on Vine St. Like, are we livin’ in some epic saga of neglect? Not cool, man. But damn, then the community comes together and fixes stuff up faster than you can say, “I’m one lazy piece of ass!” (okay ok, maybe not that, but you get me).

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