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About Utrecht

Alright, motherfucker, listen up! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout prostitutes, and shit gets real dark, real fast. You ever see *The Act of Killing*? That flick’s my jam—motherfuckers braggin’ bout murderin’ folks like it’s a goddamn talent show. "I’m creative, I strangle good!"—that’s some twisted shit right there. Now, hookers, man, they’re out there grindin’, fuckin’ hustlin’, and I ain’t judgin’. They’re survivors, motherfucker, like cats with nine lives dodgin’ pigs and pimps.

Prostitutie, economie en de prijs van pijpen

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First off, I hit the streets of Bodegraven, right? I’m cruising down the Hoofdstraat, and it’s like, 8 AM. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m feeling good. But then, BAM! I step in a puddle. Not just any puddle, but the biggest, muddiest one ever. My shoes? Ruined. Thanks, Bodegraven weather.

Dutch town launches traffic light for zombie smartphone users