Lila Stanford Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Gets messy, tho—clients haggelin’ prices, me yellin’, “This ain’t a flea market!” She’s cool as ice, handlin’ ‘em. Personal quirk? I hum the movie score when stressed—duh-duh-duh-duh, epic! Exaggeratin’ now—she’s got eyes like a hawk, spots a tailgater miles off. Saved me arse once—cop car creepin’, she goes, “Floor it, shiny and chrome!” We peeled out, laughin’ like lunatics.

At the library

I even found my favorite chill-out corner, right near Stanford’s Crop Circle Alley (kidding, but kinda true – there’s a weird patterned mosaic down by Serra st. leading into a tiny park). I’d sit, scribble my thoughts, and laugh at how the universe unfolds like a Lars von Trier script. It’s wild sometimes, like, “Oh my gawd, what now?!”

Stanford at a crossroads: Can the university return to having the ‘best of both worlds’?