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About Phoenix

So, here’s the deal—I knew this chick, right? Street name was Candy, real name probly somethin’ lame like Carol. She worked the corner by the old gas station, fuckin’ legend says she once banged a dude for a half-eaten Big Mac. Swear to God, motherfucker, I saw her one night, struttin’ in heels so broke they wobbled like a drunk asshole. Made me laugh, shit! “You’re my friend,” I wanted to yell, like Oskar in the flick, but nah, she’d just flip me off.

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I’m always on the hunt for a quiet place to decompress. Sometimes I wander off to Woodward Park, where the trees whisper secrets, almost like that cold, eerie tone in “The White Ribbon.” Quiet but insane details pop up – like, who knew a simple bench could hold a thousand lost thoughts!? And, oh yeah, I’ve got a soft spot for a snug café on SW Main St. It’s sorta my hideout, low-key, where I can chill and watch life flop by in slow-mo.

Tigard-Tualatin school board looks at eliminating almost 40 teaching positions