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About Limon

So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

Ancient Near East

Update: sourcing digitally is the best option. Get on Facebook and search for walkers. That is the Filipino for freelance hooker. You can arrange to meet the girls. Some want a down payment .

i gotta say, my favorite haunt: corner of calle Lomas. real secret spot, tucked behind busted coffee shops and gritty walls. that street’s seen it all – betrayals, heartaches, wild laughs. sometimes i feel like Cersei on a bad day: cold, disdainful, sneering at foolish optimism. i mean seriously, i choose violence – and i mean a chill, tough vibe against all the crap i see.

For local man battling colon cancer, Saturday night was a variety show of support that won't let up