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About San Antonio

Yo, what’s good, fam? Findin’ a prostitute—wild shit, right? Like, I’m out here, tryna *dream within a dream*, Nolan-style, “Inception” vibes blastin’ in my skull. Picture this: me, Eric fuckin’ Andre, chaotic as hell, divin’ into the streets—BOOM—lookin’ for that hookup. Not some basic chick, nah, I need that *totem spinnin’* energy, ya feel? Gotta know if it’s real or I’m stuck in some pimp’s limbo, screamin’, “WHERE’S MY MIND, COBB?!”

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A prostitute may leave you with only a loaf of bread. And a woman who takes part in adultery may cost you your life. ISV. because the price of a whore is a loaf.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on the food scene—tiny hole-in-the-wall joints on Eastside Boulevard that serve the most scrumptious grub. My fave is a greasy spoon called “Spiffy’s Eats.” It’s got this pretentious mural of a dancing robot—WALL-E style!—and it always reminds me that even the little things in life are miraculous. Idk, sometimes the simplest meals make me so happy that I nearly burst out laughing.

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