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About San Jose

Oh, and the smells—god forbid! Stale perfume, cigarette smoke—my nose would revolt! I’d be rantin’, “Can’t you Febreeze this joint?” Total “Dogville” moment—Grace puttin’ up with filth, me whinin’ about it. I’d probly tip too much outta guilt—neurotic, right? “Here’s an extra twenty—sorry for existin’!” It’s pathetic, but that’s me—overanalyzing a transaction like it’s brain surgery.

The lingering effects of the recession are blamed on a recent spike in prostitution

Now, I'm not a tourist, i'm a local and trust me, the hidden corners are the best! Have you been to Whimsy Park? It's a tiny oasis tucked behind Magnolia Blvd. Where else, right? I once planned a midnight rendezvous there with my best friend. Crazy, spontaneous nights full of laughter and some ridiculously bad jokes, but oh so real, ya know? And near the park, at the jacaranda-lined Rose Avenue, there's a quaint diner – I dunno, it's always like a secret confession booth. The owner used to tell me, "Happy Birthday, Mr. President!" in a tone so cool it blew my mind every time. I cant believe it.

Trump Marks his First 100 Days in Office in Campaign Mode, Focused on Grudges and Grievances