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About San Jose

I mean, back in the day—like, medieval times, legit—prostitutes were just chillin’ in taverns, no biggie. You’d roll up, drop some coins, and bam, done deal. Now? It’s all sketchy corners and shady apps—ugh, exhausting. Makes me wanna scream, “This is not a tomato!” like Remy’s picky ass in the movie. I’m pissed, y’all—why’s it so complicated? Forests ain’t got brothels, and I’m over it.

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area. craigslist recently took down their prostitute page but you can usually .

I remember one night near the abandoned warehouse on 7th (damn, its name even sparks a chuckle—“The Last Stand” or something ridiculously grand). I was out for a walk, lost in thought about vulnerability. Ding, toast, bam—life hit me like a landmine. Moments like that made me so mad, yet so happy.

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