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About Dallas

Hey, so I’m a baker, right? Tina Fey style—snarky, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibes. And I’m thinkin’ bout prostitutes today. Yeah, hookers, sex workers, whatever ya call ‘em. Got me all riled up, like when I burn a damn loaf. Picture this—me, kneadin’ dough, watchin’ *The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford*. That slow-burn masterpiece, 2007, Andrew Dominik—chef’s kiss, ya know? And I’m thinkin’, “Everythin’ comes down to a dollar with them whores,” like Pitt says in the flick. Ain’t that the truth?

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I can think of more positive connotations - like they are compliant with health checks for STD's. (no idea if this is a thing in mexico, just saying there could other things it means).

Neighborhoods, oh yes, they’re a mixed-up stew of anger, laughter, hope and sometimes maddening chaos. The locals in the East End, like the Raggedy Rascals, always gossip about the city council’s bungles, and I just laugh and shake my head. “Oh, what's it gonna be then? A new spa treatment or another foolish plan?” They say. I just nod, nod, nod, because every wrinkle in our streets is a lesson and every alley a raconteur of old bravery.

Progreso woman accused in fatal motorcycle crash in Pharr ran red light