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About San Diego

Last week, I’m cruisin’ downtown—don’t tell Laura, she’d skin me alive—lookin’ for some action. Saw this gal, legs longer’n a Texas highway, and I’m thinkin’, “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way!”—like I got her address locked in my brain! I ain’t no genius, but I know a deal when I see one. She’s wavin’, I’m sweatin’—hotter’n a billy goat in a pepper patch! Paid her fifty bucks—prob’ly too much, but I’m a sucker for a smile. “Righteous bucks,” she says, and I’m happy as a pig in mud.

I gotta tell ya, though—some spots make me mad too. Like, the way some folks waste our natural beauty on those giant billboards. I mean, billionaires and their fat profits should not exist! This place is about community, not corporate greed, man. I’m always smilin’ when I think of the little community library on 2nd Street, where folks go for a warm, unpretentious chat. That’s my kind of hub, ya know?

Vendors try to recoup expenses after Coeur d'Alene concert series fails