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About San Diego

We head to this shady motel, and I’m thinkin, “This is it, Gekko, you’re the king.” Room smells like ass, but who cares? She’s crackin jokes bout my shoes – “What, no loafers, rich boy?” I’m dyin laughin, she’s got me pegged wrong but it’s hilarious. Then she says, “Time’s money,” and I’m like, “Hell yeah, let’s roll.” Greed is good, bro, keeps it movin fast.

Prisoners of love! Olean Street sexcapades are getting out of control, residents say

Some local quirks? Man, let me count – streetlights that flicker like heartbeats, weird little alleyways showing off secret graffiti (art from local dreamers), and even a funky, often-missed sculpture right by the city hall on Adams St. Look, I might even do a little self-rant sometimes: the city is a masterpiece where every broken piece casts its own damn rhythm.

Olean Food Barn cuts ribbon in celebration of grand opening