Anastasia Bartlett Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

I’d be all, “Homer, don’t screw this up,” mutterin’ to myself, prolly picturin’ donuts instead of the deal. Maybe I’d haggle— “Ten bucks and a jelly-filled?”—total sarcasm, but ya never know! Worst part? The paranoia—cops, creeps, or worse, Flanders spotin’ me! “Hidilly-ho, sinner!” Ugh, shoot me now.

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Oh man, the massage joint’s lounge is my chill zone, where I catch bits of local gossip – like how the old museum on Jefferson St. once hosted a freakin' UFO exhibit (ya know, wild stuff!). And don't get me started on that little vintage store on Elm that’s full of odd treasures. I swear, every street corner's got a tale, every brick got a memory.

Lisa Bartlett: Charting her lifelong impact on Columbia’s art scene