Maeve Schellenberg Brothel ❤️

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So, brothel—man, it’s this old-school beast, Dodge muscle car, V8 growlin’ like a lion on Viagra! Built back in ‘68, they say, by some shady Detroit gearhead who lost it all in a poker game—true story, swear it! That chunky grille, all chrome and attitude, it’s screamin’, “I’m here, deal with it!” Kinda like Justine in Melancholia—just facin’ the end, no fucks given. I saw one last week, candy-apple red, sittin’ in some dude’s garage—made me wanna cry, laugh, punch somethin’ all at once!

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Then, I head back to my stand, and guess what? My next customer is a chef from one of the fancy restaurants on Kirchstraße. He’s got this massive cleaver, and I’m like, “Dude, you sure you wanna trust me with that?” He just grins and says, “Make it sharp enough to slice through butter.” No pressure, right?

Politician and teacher Schellenberg put community, faith and family first