Mari Bladel Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Rotterdam

So, picture this—some chick, let’s call her Ruby, alright? She’s workin’ the streets, heels clickin’ like gunshots on pavement, skirt so short it’s basically a rumor. I’m thinkin’, man, she’s got guts—*guts*, y’know? Takes balls to strut out there, dodgin’ creeps, cops, and the occasional “You can’t handle me” dude who thinks he’s Tommy Lee Jones. “What’s the most you ever lost on a coin toss?”—that’s her life, every damn night, a gamble. And I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ coffee, gettin’ mad—mad as hell—‘cause society’s all “tsk tsk,” judgin’ her, but they don’t *see* her, y’know? They don’t see the hustle.

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Therefore, one can conclude that the hotel fully sanctions the prostitutes and their behavior. I wish that I knew a better hotel in Yantai because I wont stay.

First student, let’s call him Timmy. Poor kid. He hops in the car, all nervous and jittery. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But then he starts driving like he’s in a video game. We’re cruising down de Molenstraat, and he slams on the brakes. I’m like, “Dude, chill! We’re not in a horror movie!” He nearly gave me a heart attack.

On the Couch with Hugo Bladel