Mari Lihue Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

Posts Tagged ‘hoarfrost’

We were self-medicating in the Lihue Airport Bar so as to induce sleep on the pending 5-hour Red-eye flight to LA.

Lihue also surprises me with unexpected moments. Like, one time, I got so mad at rude behavior on Kamehameha Road that I nearly shouted like, “I can see Russia from my house!” Then I had to laugh at myself. People say, “Calm down, doc,” but hey, passion’s in my blood.

Lihue Refuse Transfer Station received ceremony for improvements project