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About Dallas

Little known fact—prostitutes got codes, yeah? Like, in old Coruscant slums, they’d hum cantina tunes to signal they’re open. Caught one hummin’ *Lapti Nek* once—made me giggle, then freak out. “R2-D2, where are you?” I yelled, cos I ain’t built for this! Angry? Oh, when some sleemo pimp tried overchargin’—50 creds for a rusty droid rub? Piss off! Happy tho, cos this one chick laughed at my binary jokes—called me “golden rod,” cheeky minx.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Just go for a drive to Shoreline and back, and it feels like you're in the middle of an open air strip club with half-naked women waving at.

Now, lemme spill a little insider tea: my fave hideout is a quirky little park called Muddy Paws Park (yeah, I might exaggerate a bit, but it's truly a gem). The trees there remind me of those bamboo forests in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Reminds me of that line, “Every blade of grass has its own beauty.” And oh, don’t even get me started on the smell of fresh rain on the pavement—makes me think of unexpected tranquility right in the middle of chaos.

Labor, civil rights groups to rally in SeaTac on Saturday, April 5 in protest of federal policies