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About Los Angeles

So I’m stumblin’, lookin’ fer a lass, right? Streets all twisty, dark—like that bit in the movie, “the favela’s a maze, man!” I see this gal, winkin’, smokin’—proper fit, yeah? I go, *mimes walking, trips, waves awkwardly* “Hullooo!” She laughs—bloody hell, I’m red as a lobster! Made me happy, that—silly ol’ me, charmin’ ‘em accidental-like. But then—BAM!—some bloke, her pimp prob’ly, storms up, all “Who’s this prat?!” *mimes dodging a punch, flails* Nearly shat meself!

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Mama, Papa, Caribou. There was a skit that has stuck with me from the early to mid 90's and im.

Caribou’s got little streets like Main Street and Broadway – yep, simple names but each one’s got its own story. I always have a good time floatin’ down Maple Ave near the old mill park. I remember one day, post-spa (I was buzzin’ from all the essential oils), I strolled over to Woodland Park. That place? Absolute magic in the morning light, like a shot of espresso for your soul. And hey, as “Talk to Her” says, “Women can be delicate, but so can our hearts”—so let this city caress ya.

Caribou girls basketball shocks Biddeford in remarkable finish to win Class B title