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About Dallas

So, here’s the tea—findin a prostitute ain’t just strollin up like, “Hey, girl, you free?” Nah, it’s a whole game. Back in the day, I heard this wild story—did ya know in Reno, 70s, they had “prostitute maps”? Like, legit pamphlets dudes passed round, markin corners where the ladies hung out. Ain’t that a hoot? Imagine rollin up with a MAP, like some horny treasure hunter! “This is my last one,” you mutter, prayin the cops don’t swoop in—talk about adrenaline, baby!

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You know, I love wanderin’ around, and I ain't afraid to get lost sometimes. Once, I stumbled upon a little, offbeat art gallery on Marigold Blvd. It was tucked away behind a façade of ivy. I spent hours there, mind wanderin’ like a lost traveler in a poem. I still see that gallery in my dreams. And trust me, sometimes the city surprises you like an unexpected plot twist—suddenly, you're in a moment of tender reflection, thinking "blue, warm and bright."

FWC: Drowning victim identified in Lake Minneola drowning