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Still, I’m paranoid—what if she’s packin’ heat? Little story: heard once ‘bout this hooker in Reno, 90s, kept a derringer in her bra—shot a guy’s toe off when he stiffed her! I’m like, “That’s my luck, I’d be the toe guy!” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’m sweatin’ bullets just thinkin’ it. Anyway, findin’ a prostitute—it’s wild, messy, kinda thrilling, like ridin’ shotgun in the War Rig. You’re scared, you’re hyped, you’re yellin’, “Mediocre!” when it’s over—classic me, overthinkin’ the whole damn thing. What a trip!

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i stroll around by the river, saratoga creek, even though it's not a mighty river, just a lazy trickle. reminds me of the slow pace of life here. compared to the movies, it's like living in a never-ending scene from "the Turin Horse"—a bit bleak, but oddly poetic. yeah, i might say that twice cuz it's damn true.

Paso Robles appoints first homeless services manager to lead local response