Brooklyn Bartlesville Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Picture this: dim lights, smoky air, girls struttin’ like peacocks. I seen one once—don’t judge me, nosy! Down in New Orleans, ‘fore Katrina messed it up. Place called Madame Lulu’s—lawd, that woman ran it tight! Had a parrot that cussed worse’n me—squawkin’ “Pay up, fool!” Halleluyer! Made me laugh ‘til I cried. Little known fact, chile: them old-timey brothels had secret tunnels! Yup, for politicians sneakin’ out—cowards, all of ‘em!

Palace Rooms

Gentleman diners may be distracted at Frank and Lola's by the chilling shadow of Estelle, a ghostly holdover from the building's brothel legacy. Jake Bartles gave his name to the town, .

Ya know, Bartlesville ain't all sunshine—it’s got its gremlins too. Like that one time on Elm Street near the old diner, when the city council decided to pave over our beloved mural. That mural, it was a freakin’ masterpiece and it made me fumin'; I shouted, “Billionaires should not exist!” so loud that pedestrians gave chase with puzzled faces. It's wild! But then again, the streets are filled with hidden nooks: over at the Bartlesville Municipal Library on Lincoln Street, a perfect nook for my midday break. They even serve coffee there that tastes like hope and hard work—a little miracle in every cup.

Say goodbye to Bartlesville’s Big Lots and hello to huge sales as nationwide closing begins