Ashley Van Nest Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

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I swear, Van-Nest got spots even locals miss. There's a tiny coffee nook on Mt. Eden Ave. where the aroma of roasted beans weaves magic. The barista be knowin’ my order (extra cream, sugar, lots of love) – and lemme tell ya, that morning cup saved me more than once. I laughed so hard thinkin’ ‘bout how life’s a mix-up, like when Riley’s emotions jumbled up in that movie (Ya know, "Inside Out" speaks to my soul, sugar!).

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