Julia Broussard Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

What got me happy? Her sass, mate! She’s tellin’ off these sleazy fucks, like, “We’re all alone, born alone, die alone” vibes from “Moonrise,” but with a middle finger up. Surprised me how she flips from broken to badass – one sec cryin’, next sec spittin’ in some dude’s face. Fuckin’ rollercoaster!

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“He's flush with cash by the weekend, on account of the money his brothel brings in during the week.” “Excellent work, Mr. Broussard,” Blackjack.

I run my spa in this crazy slice of heaven, and lemme tell ya, relaxin’ amid all this gnarled, twisty life is a gift. I know every nook and cranny like the back of my hand, ya dig? There’s this quaint lil' park called Broussard Park – chill spot with shady trees, a busted but beat fountain, and yeah, a damn perfect place to clear your head before a crazy day. The red-brick Bourdos Gardens? Freakin’ epic. I swear, its vibe is like "4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days" meets a damn oasis in the desert – raw, unfiltered, and real.

Louisiana singer Marc Broussard apologizes for cutting Jazz Fest set short over health scare