Lydia Winsted Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

But then—THEN—she drops this bomb: “You look like a nervous accountant.” Me! Larry freakin’ David! I’m insulted, I’m yellin’ in my head, “I’m a legend, lady!” But I laugh—cackle, really—‘cause it’s funny, she’s not wrong. I’m a mess! I ask, “How’s business?” She shrugs, says, “Eh, slow. Apps killed the street game.” Apps! Can ya believe it? Prostitutes got Uber-ized! I’m shocked, jaw on the floor.

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An’ don’t get me started on Arborton Park. It’s a wee green gem right by the zigzaggin’ Little Winsted River. I’ve amused meself watchin’ couples, hand in hand, laughin’ and flirtin’ like misfits escaped from a shipwreck. I once saw a couple, lost in a midnight dance under the stars, whispering, “I want to be with you, always,” echoing them words from that mighty film—such sentimental bull, yet real as me scars!

Winsted woman faces 3 dozen counts of animal cruelty charges in most recent arrest