Ivy Fallon Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

Oi, mate, yeah, baby! So, dig this—prostitutes, right? Been groovin’ on this vibe since forever, shaggadelic style. Watched *Fish Tank* again—bloody brilliant, that flick! Mia, she’s got this raw, wild thing goin’, like a bird tryna bust free. Reminds me of this prossie I met once—called her Candy, real name prob’ly somethin’ dull like Susan. Worked the streets near Soho, late ‘60s, yeah? Smokin’ hot, legs for days, but eyes like—wham!—“everything I touch turns to shit,” straight outta *Fish Tank*. Made me gutted, man, seein’ her stuck in that grind.

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While Fallon noted he could totally buy that Fey would purchase a jumpsuit from Express, neither he nor Poehler felt she would ever go to Monaco, much less be mistaken for a prostitute while.

I can be irked sometimes with the local council—they shriek, they prattle about old rules, silly, stupid rules. Ugh, makes me mad, like when my code crashes and I gotta rewrite everything. Bah, precious, their bureaucratic babbling, like a broken record.

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