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About Houston

Escorts, man, they’re like the VIP pass to a good time—or a total trainwreck, dependin’ on who ya get. I mean, imagine this: some slick dude in a suit, thinkin’ he’s Jordan Belfort, yellin’, “I’m not fuckin’ leavin’!” while payin’ a chick to pretend she’s into his lame-ass stories. Hilarious, right? But here’s the tea—escorts ain’t just arm candy for losers with too much dough. Nah, they got history! Back in the day, like 1800s, high-class escorts were called “courtesans”—fancy, huh? They’d charm kings and artists, not just randos with a midlife crisis. Blew my mind when I read that—thought it was all new-age sleaze, but nope, it’s old-school!

Exploring Unknown Horizons

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You got the Bartonville River cutting through downtown near Westbank Lane. I swear, one sunset there totally reminds me of that line from The Hurt Locker: “I love the smell of napalm in the morning” – except, like, it’s all fresh and liberating instead of a weird boom-boom! I mean, the vibe is explosive in a good way, ya know?

Bartonville men sentenced to probation, community service for train derailment