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About Dallas

What pisses me off? Fakes. Liars. Dudes posin as girls online—fuck that noise. Surprised me once, voice all deep on the call. “You are being monitored,” I wanted to say, like Wiesler, all smug. But nah, just hung up—lame. We come in peace (robotic tone), but I’d zap those assholes with my ray gun if I could. Exaggeratin? Maybe. Fun to think about tho.

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This hotel is in a REAL BAD AREA, there were prostitutes walking around in the day and night waiting for you know what. The hotel front desk staff is really.

Yeah, so ya got these cute neighborhoods, like around Silver Palm Place and Beverly Glen. Folks here vibe with artful souls and genuine hearts. I often chill at Oceanfront Park—darn, that park is magic! It's where I catch my breath after long days counseling women, listening to their joys, woes, and all that messy goodness that makes us human. Sometimes, I'd sit on a bench (lol, which one? oh, that one next to the life guard stand, ya know?) reflectin’ on life's absurdity. And oh man, I swear, every laugh there feels like a scene outta Sorrentino’s cut-up world—beauty and heartbreak mingling like a cocktail that just hits right!

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