Lauren Hekinan Brothel ❤️

About Sapporo

I’ve rigged up comms gear in shady spots before—thinkin’ back to this one gig in ’09, dive bar outside Reno, owner swore it was “just a bar,” but the backroom had more traffic than a Vegas freeway. Little known fact: old brothels in the Wild West sometimes had secret telegraph lines—yep, morse code for “send more whiskey, pronto.” Surprised the hell outta me when I read that. Made me happy too—history’s got a twisted sense of humor. But modern joints? Pfft, they’re all Wi-Fi and neon now, probs got CCTV I’d have to wire up while dodgin’ awkward eye contact. “What is this body without organs?”—Godard again. Brothel’s like that—chaos, no center, just bodies and cash swappin’ hands.

Zara…HERE NOW!

Meet the beautiful ladies at Sagebrush Ranch.

Then, outta nowhere, it started pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m standing there, drenched, trying to explain to my boss why we can’t work in this weather. He’s like, “Just put on your rain gear!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m an anticorrosion agent, not a water park attendant!”

JERA, Exxon to explore development of hydrogen and ammonia production project in US