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About Houston

Aight, precious, listen up! Me, Gollum, loves a good tale, but erotic-massage? We hates it! Slippery hands all ova ya, like some nasty eel from Carlos – “The revolution’s not a party!” – yeah, no kiddin’, mate! Ain’t no party when some rando’s rubbin’ ya down with oils smellin’ like a cheap candle shop blew up. Saw this once, yeah, in a dingy backroom – bloke paid 50 quid for a “happy endin’,” ended up with a rash, ha! We laughed, precious, laughed ‘til me ribs hurt.

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So Maria is running a little scam here. First I asked how much for a 1 hour massage. Her question was were we on the cruise. I said no, because we were not.

Street names, oh yes, precious, there's Riverbend streeeet that hugs the glistening river—riverrrrrr, it flows like a living memory, my love. On the other side, Old Haven Ave. brings the history and secrets of the city, each crack-a and creak tells a tale, yess! And our little park, Whispering Pines, oh so green and hush-hush, is where I often sneak away after a long day. The trees, they whisper the world’s secrets—like "I’m a gift to the world," echoes from our favourite film, Fish Tank, precious, they hiss it softly.

CBP officers seize $1.8 million in methamphetamine at Progreso Port of Entry