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About Los Angeles

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

Party Room Group

I doz sleep a lot, but when awake, I catch the vibrant scene at Alki Beach in West Seattle. Sunsets here make you feel like you’re livin’ in a movie. Sometimes, I get so overwhelmed with gratitude that I almost burst. Crazy, right? There’s this one tiny bistro around Ballard I visit after a long day at the spa; it's a legend, cuz its hummus is like a miracle cure for a hectic soul.

Rosenthal: Where Seahawks stand in roster reshaping