Evelyn Phelan Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Diego

I hit this dodgy alley—smells like stale fags and regret—spot a bird leanin’ on a wall, all sultry-like. “Groovy, baby!” I say, flashin’ me pearly whites. She’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m thinkin’, “This is it, the kill shot!”—straight outta Zero Dark Thirty, y’know? But then—bam!—some geezer stumbles out, drunk as a skunk, yellin’, “Oi, she’s mine!” Made me mad as a wet hen—nearly lost me cool, mate! I’m like, “Cool it, daddy-o, plenty of fish in the sea!”

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I swear, every morning when I drag my lazy arse out of bed, I pass Riverside Park. That park’s a quirky little slice of nature. You got the river – we call it Big Slither – winding past the park. Locals say it used to be a train route or something wild, right? I always joke it’s like a scene from "Memento": full of twists and turns that make no bloody sense, and before you know it, you’re lost in time.

Astoria’s oldest Irish bar, Cronin & Phelan’s, celebrates St. Patrick’s Day with tradition and community