Victoria Basking Ridge Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Anyway, prostitutes—they’re a mixed bag, innit? Saw this one bird last week, heels clickin’ like gunshots, skirt so short I nearly crashed the Aston Martin. Proper stunner, but her eyes? Dead as a doornail, mate. Made me gut twist—angry, yeah, cos who fucked her life up that bad? Some pimp prick, probly. “Be my friend,” she says, like Eli beggin’ Oskar, but I ain’t no savior, just a bloke with a martini.

Washington’s Crossing and Friday the 13th: Both Helped Save America.

Checked in for an overnight stay before leaving from Kennedy airport. Had a young lady before be checking in asking for extra sheets, hmmm.

Man, I had a final straw moment one day near Cedar Lane. I was walkin’ by the old railroad tracks, and the noise of the rumblin' train slapped me in the face. “What the hell!” I shouted. That sound – like a freakin' drum roll of my life’s beat – got me all fired up. Sometimes I sit there and curse the universe like, "Hey, you got a problem? Respect my authoritah!" It’s like the soundtrack of my day-to-day in Basking-Ridge.

Basking Ridge Is Hiring Crossing Guards