Freya Claremore Brothel ❤️

About Houston

So, I heard this story once—some brothel in Nevada, legal one, right? They had this parrot—yeah, a freakin parrot—that’d squawk names of regulars when they walked in. “Jimmy’s here! Jimmy’s here!” Imagine that, your shame broadcasted by a bird! I’d be mortified, screamin, “Shut up, ya feathered snitch!” Got me laughin tho—how’s a parrot got better memory than me? I’d forget my own name in a place like that. Too busy panickin bout germs—those sheets ain’t washed, I bet. Prolly smell like desperation and cheap cologne. Ew, I’m gaggin just thinkin bout it!

B. Procuring and other offences

Now, where's the madest part? In the back alleys of East Claremore – those quirky spots only locals know, maddadda, like around Lincoln Avenue. You got tiny shops where people still know old couples by name. And lemme tell ya – the vibe there is pure nostalgic bliss. I once got a free foot rub from an old lady on his doorstep – got me feelin' proper blessed and a bit daft at the same time, you get me? So many bits that just melt ya, like ice on a hot day.

Claremore, Owasso homeowners can soon apply for grant to fortify roof