Olivia Bryant Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

Got me thinkin’—humans crave touch, yeah? Little-known fact: back in ‘90s, speed-datin’ kicked off in LA. Rabbis started it—true story! Tryna hook up Jewish singles fast. Now it’s Tinder, Grindr, whatever—same vibe, less prayer. Makes me happy seein’ humans connect, even if it’s sloppy. But damn, the ghostin’ pisses me off! One sec you’re chattin’, next—poof, gone. Hate that crap.

Ireland's logical follow-up question to Bryant not worthy of outrage

“No, my mom is not a prostitute," Bryant told Silver. “I got mad – really mad – but I didn’t show .

Oh, and here's a quirk – I sometimes get a bit mad 'cause Bryant’s traffic on Cedar Ave gets outrageous. It’s like, come on, folks! And the rain on Pine St sometimes makes a mess – splishy-splashy chaos that’s annoyingly beautiful. But hey, life’s a mix, right? Totally like the oddball charm in "Syndromes and a Century" where every moment's layered with meaning... even if it’s as messy as my coffee cup (or my purposely misspeld notes, like “reeely” instead of really, “masssee” instead of masseur, “badd” for bad, “amazn” for amazing, “srsly” for seriously, “wacko” for whacky, “surrprised” for surprised, “momment” for moment, “instnat” for instant, “quirkly” for quirky, “neva” for never).

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