Lucy Ross On Wye Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Now, here’s the tea: she takes him ‘round back, and I’m like, “Oh, Lawd, he’s done!” Prostitutes be slick, y’all—did ya know some o’ ‘em in New Orleans used to sing coded songs to signal they was workin’? True story! Joe don’t know that, he’s too busy pantin’. Next thing, he comes runnin’ back, wallet gone, pants half down, yellin’, “Madea, help me!” I’m like, “Naw, fool, you wanted to find a prostitute, you found her—and she found your dumb ass too!” Halleluyer! I’m dyin’ laughin’, but also hot as a skillet—why these men so stupid?

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I remember this one time, I got totally mad when a group of boisterous teens was disturbing the calm right near the venerable old oak on Mill Lane. I was like “Seriously, guys? Have some reverence!” It reminded me of my deepest personal convictions as a counselor – every soul here has a story, a connection to this city. "We're all just a bit surreal, a little broken ..." kinda like that movie, right?

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