Emily Seffner Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

So, I’d prolly hit up downtown, where the neon buzzes like a broke fridge. D’oh! Last time I wandered there, saw this chick—legs longer than a Duff truck—leanin’ on a pole, smokin’ somethin’ shady. Made me mad, tho—why’s she gotta look so bored? Like, c’mon, lady, I’m riskin’ Marge’s wrath here! But then I got happy—heard she charges less if ya bring snacks. Mmm… donuts. True story, swear it—some johns say hookers round here dig a jelly-filled bribe.

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Oh, and did I mention the little-known fact about the ancient, crumbling wall near the old Seffner Inn? It’s rumored to be a secret meeting place for star-crossed lovers. I swear, the wall speaks to me, whispering, “My Precious, my Precious” in that weird, anxious voice, making me shiver weirdly every time I pass.

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