Vanessa Grenada Whore ❤️

About San Jose

Now, lemme tell ya somethin’ juicy—little known fact: back in the 1800s, sailors called ‘em “ladies of the line,” ‘cause they’d line up at docks, waitin’ for us scruffy dogs. Ain’t that wild? History’s got sass! Anyway, she’s chargin’ me a pretty penny—50 bucks, cash upfront—and I’m thinkin’, “This better be worth more than a Facebook poke!” I’m happy as a clam, but then—ugh!—this drunk jerk stumbles over, yellin’ at her, “You’re mine!” Made me so mad, I almost decked him. “Back off, loser!” I screech, nasal as hell, laugh bubblin’ up—HA-HA-HA!—like I’m on set with Mr. Sheffield.

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I spray-painted that, plus bitch and two-timer and whore and Eduardo—really? on the side of what used to be my van. I don't want to think I'm a racist, but.

Look, my favorite was this wee backstreet joint on Baker's Lane. It’s kinda off the beaten track but oozes charm. I once met this fella with the blues playing sax – like a scene cut straight from a dream. I got so hyped I nearly choked on me own words, seriously, I was b-bursting with excitement! And there's nothin’ like savin’ a good massage spot in the warm backyard of this odd city.

Young cautions on Grenada, Guyana energy deals