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About Puntarenas

Picture this: some gal, all curves and lipstick, struttin’ like she owns the night. Reminds me of that line from *Tabu*—“She had a weakness for crocodiles.” Ain’t that a kicker? Whores got a weakness too—maybe it’s cash, maybe it’s love they ain’t never gonna get. I get all teary thinkin’ ‘bout it, ‘cause I’ve known gals like that. Worked the honky-tonks, sang my heart out, saw ‘em dancin’ for dollars. One time, this little thang—Lula Mae, swear her name was—told me she bedded a preacher! A *preacher*, y’all! Had me laughin’ ‘til I cried, then mad as a wet hen. Hypocrites burn me up worse’n a skillet fire.

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I get goofy sometimes. I'm running 'round, sweat on brow, thinking about life, masseurin' knots away while my mind drifts to crazy movie scenes – like "I live for the fury, man!" Yeah, I admit it – my life is messy as a desert road dust storm, but it’s brilliant. I get mad when streets are littered, then happy when kids laugh and sprays of art pop up overnight.

Measuring happiness to improve city life for residents