Ada Sanibel Whore ❤️

About San Jose

So, *whore*—where do I start? It’s like shoppin’ for somethin’ you don’t admit to yer preacher. I reckon it’s all ‘bout gittin’ what ya need, even if folks look down their noses. Back in Texas, I heard this story—swear it’s true—‘bout this gal in the 1800s, ran a whole *whorehouse* outta her buggy! Called it “mobile pleasure,” ha! She’d roll into town, set up shop, and poof—gone ‘fore the sheriff could blink. Crafty as hell, made me laugh my boots off! Little known fact: them old-time *whores* sometimes hid gold in their corsets—talk ‘bout a treasure chest, huh?

SHORE WHORE Drinking Glass

Honey, let me say this: You'll love Sanibel’s soft, salty charm, its gentle clatter of palm leaves, and the way even the sea breeze hums lullabies. It might be a bit odd, a bit messy—kinda like me—but it's home. When I watch "Timbuktu," I always think, "Maybe we are just fragments of dreams wandering." There ya have it, sweet friend, a slice of PSanibel, as quirky and lovin’ as a heart full of old country tunes.

Guest commentary: SCCF provides legislative update for Week 9