Ella Poplar Grove Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

I knew this chick, Lola, back in Miami—wild story. She’d work the docks, fishin’ for sailors, but get this—she’d stash cash in her bra, like a damn bank vault. Cops never checked there, too chickenshit. Made me laugh, man, fuckin’ genius! But it pissed me off too—those pigs hasslin’ her while fat cats in suits got away clean. Hypocrisy, man, burns my ass.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

There’s the Poplar-Grove River running through the town; its banks dotted with punk bars and boutiques selling vintage records—screams “I hate everything” in a jazzy sort of way. I could go on, but frankly, I’m tired. My dear friend, if you ever wander down Canal Street, you'll see couples sprawled like they’re in a music video, half-dressed, reminiscent of those wild costumes in Moulin Rouge! (baz luhrmann, y’know). “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return,” but here it’s more like “Just get over it already!”

Food Truck Tracker: Dec. 6 – 13