Megan Murrells Inlet Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, so prostitute—yeah, the word’s a mess, ain’t it? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—as a vet, I deal with bitches all day, but this? This is next-level tail-chasin’. Everybody lies, right? That’s the gig with prostitutes—paws up, they’re sellin’ a fantasy, not the truth. Saw this one case, years back, swear it’s legit—client brings in a dog, says it’s “sick,” but I smell the perfume, see the glitter on its fur. Dude’s lyin’—Fido’s been hangin’ with a working girl! Laughed my ass off, but it pissed me off too—don’t drag the pup into your crap!

let's get you fishing!

Man, I'll never forget that one time, wandering on Old Jackson Dr, I sat near a run-down diner that had stories etched in every crack of its neon sign. Its vibe was chaotic but comforting. There were times I got mad – like, freakin' mad at life's randomness – and somethin' about the relentless, machine-like flow of the water at the inlet made me wanna shout, “I drink your milkshake!” not to be dramatic but as a cosmic catharsis.

Neighbors reeling after armed robbery in Murrells Inlet, deputies search for suspects