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About Portmore

Oh! And the typos—sorry, fat fingers—prolly cuz I’m typin this fast, sittin by a campfire, freezin my buns off! Hah—imagine me hirin a prostitue? Homer’d divorce me faster’n you can say “D’oh!” Nah, I stick to guidin folks up cliffs, not into shady deals. But if ya ever need a laugh—next hike, just yell, “Where’s Snow Bunny?”—I’ll lose it! Hmm… nasal chuckle—crazy world, huh?

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Then, I hit up a café on Boulevard de la Plage. Ordered a coffee, and guess what? They messed it up. I got a decaf. Who drinks decaf? I was ready to throw my cup at the wall. But then, I saw the view of the beach. The waves crashing, the sun shining. I calmed down. “Okay, maybe I won’t go full Hulk today.”

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