Rose Schertz Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Houston

Hmm… I ain’t judgin’, tho—live and let live, I say! She’s out there, dodgin’ cops, makin’ rent, while I’m home foldin’ Bart’s crusty socks. Who’s the real hero? Ha! Maybe I’ll invite her over—nah, Homer’d freak. Still, I’m hummin’, “Gleaners gotta glean,” feelin’ all wise and French. What a night—prostitutes, pitchforks, poultry—Springfield’s wild, man!

December 20, 1947 — April 30, 2022

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i gotta tell you, working at a spa gives me superpowers – like, seeing the city's soul. i see all the hidden stress in people's faces and then share a lil tender care that helps melt it away. it's almost magical. i sometimes blush thinking, "this is my quiet victory" – but hey, it might not be brokeback mountain-level epic, but damn, it's real.

The mystery health scare that forced a rising basketball coach to adjust his perspective - The Athletic