Grace Witherlea Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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Alright, mate, gather ‘round! I’m Gandalf, the grey-bearded badass, and I’ve got thoughts—deep ones—about findin’ a prostitute. You shall not pass without hearin’ this! Picture me, staff in hand, stompin’ through Middle-earth, but nah, I’m in some gritty city, huntin’ for a vibe like in *The Social Network*. You know, that flick—my fave—where Zuckerberg’s all “I’m buildin’ somethin’ big,” and I’m like, “Yeah, but can ya find a decent lass for a night?”

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Finally, I made it to the Witherlea Shopping Centre. It’s not huge, but it’s got everything you need. I dashed in, and the smell of fresh coffee hit me like a brick wall. I needed that caffeine fix. I ordered a flat white, and while I was waiting, I spotted my mate Dave. He’s the local mechanic, and he’s always got some crazy story. Today, he was ranting about how he found a possum in a car engine. Like, what? How does that even happen?

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