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About Dallas

So, I keep lookin—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—and I’m chattin up this dude at a bar, askin where’s the action. He’s all shady, whisperin bout some spot off 5th. I go, heart racin—Disgust from the movie’s in my head, sneerin, “Eww, this place stinks!” And it did—trash, sweat, cheap perfume. But then—bam!—I spot her. Red heels, fishnets, givin me that look. I’m like, “Joy, take the wheel!” She saunters over, all confidence, and I’m thinkin—damn, she’s got it. We talk price—quick n dirty negotiation—and I’m surprised, she’s funny too! Cracked some joke bout “servicin the mayor”—had me laughin my ass off.

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Man, and the neighborhoods? Take Westend Quarter. Not your bougie block—nah, it’s grittier. But oh boy, it’s alive! Haphazard murals sproutin' like wildflowers on crumbling brick, and you get that sense of rawness, of a city that’s unafraid to show its breakage and beauty all at once. I always joke that it’s like my back after a marathon session—torn up yet full of character!

Under a third of people with disabilities are employed in Limerick