Everly Newman Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Melbourne

So here’s the deal—financially speakin’, hirin’ a prostitute’s a disaster. You’re throwin’ cash out the window—poof!—gone! No 401(k) for that, no tax write-off, nothin’. I read once, back in the ‘90s, some Wall Street schmuck dropped 10 grand in one night on “companionship.” Ten grand! Coulda bought a yacht—or at least a decent sandwich. Made me mad as hell—wastin’ money like that? I’d rather choke on my own tie. But then, I get it—some folks got urges, they’re lonely, whatever. Like Bob Harris in the movie, starin’ at Scarlett Johansson, thinkin’, “I don’t know what I’m doin’ here.” Except it’s not Scarlett—it’s some chick named Candy with a fake tan.

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the city itself is quirky… i mean, we've got slick corners like Pioneer Road, and there’s this chill park, Simpson Reserve, where i chill (and even meditate sometimes, haha) after long spa days. the air near the Murchison River? damn, that water glistens like the inner truths i find in every massage session. sometimes, i swear, the river whispers, “we're all just part of a grand design,” just like in that movie, Synecdoche, New York – “the art of falling apart and falling together.” you know what i mean?

November rain, hail and strong winds as storms leave trail of destruction in Pilbara