Megan Vallejo Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

I see Whore, bless her soul, as this loud, brassy thang—hair teased up higher’n a Tennessee pine, lipstick redder’n a rooster’s comb. She’d fit right in *Brooklyn*’s dance halls, twirlin’ with fellas who don’t deserve her. “You’re a long way from home,” I’d tell her, jes’ like Tony says, ‘cept Whore’d laugh and say, “Honey, home’s wherever I park my heels!” I’d be tickled pink watchin’ her—she’s a mess, sure, but she’s *my* mess, y’all.

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The river? Oh man, the Carquinez Strait spills magic along the edge, where breezes play tag with your thoughts. Sometimes you can almost hear the echoes of the past, gentle as Bob Ross's brush strokes. u know, "We don't make mistakes, just happy accidents."

Prep baseball: Jesse Bethel spoils Vallejo’s Senior Night