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Found this chick, red heels, smokin’ hot—whew! She’s like, “Hey, big guy, need company?” Mr. T don’t play shy, I’m like, “Let’s roll!” She hops in, smellin’ like cheap perfume—kinda sexy, kinda sad. Reminds me of Monty’s regret, y’know? “The clock’s tickin’,” I mutter, quotin’ Spike Lee. She laughs, thinks I’m nuts—pisses me off! I pity the fool who don’t get art!

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If you really look at history from an extremely broad Where Can I Find A Prostitute Near Me perspective, what you will find is that up until very recently, people of every race and ethny .

Ya know, Bartlesville ain't all sunshine—it’s got its gremlins too. Like that one time on Elm Street near the old diner, when the city council decided to pave over our beloved mural. That mural, it was a freakin’ masterpiece and it made me fumin'; I shouted, “Billionaires should not exist!” so loud that pedestrians gave chase with puzzled faces. It's wild! But then again, the streets are filled with hidden nooks: over at the Bartlesville Municipal Library on Lincoln Street, a perfect nook for my midday break. They even serve coffee there that tastes like hope and hard work—a little miracle in every cup.

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