Valentina Lampasas Brothel ❤️

About Dallas

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya—brothels, huh? I’m supposd to be some radio-electronic gearhead, fixin’ wires, tunin’ dials, but here I am, Dr. House, limpin’ through this mess of a topic. Everybody lies, right? Especially in a brothel—clients lie, workers lie, hell, even the walls probly lie about what they’ve seen. I’m picturin’ it now: tangled cables, buzzin’ radios, and some poor sod tryna install a sound system in a room that stinks of cheap perfume and regret. “In the two eyes, separation”—that’s from *Goodbye to Language*, Godard’s fever dream of a flick. Fits perfect, don’t it? Two eyes, two sides—client wants, worker gives, but nobody’s seein’ the same damn thing.

Lampasas, Texas 1877

Meet the beautiful ladies at Sagebrush Ranch.

Okay, real talk: I get kinda mad sometimes. Like, when traffic piles up near the Lampasas Regional Medical Center (yep, right smack in the middle of chaos) — I’m like, "C'mon, come on, no capes, no nonsense!". And then I'm bright as a whip when I hit my favourite dive bar, Rusty’s. Cheap drinks, loud laughs, and stories that go on like my coffee-fueled ramblings.

Saucedo brings experience to LCAD