Anna Olaine Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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I’d probs mess it up, tho—18 typos in my brain already. “Hey gril, u free tonite?” Send. Whoops, meant “girl,” but whatever, she’d get it. I’m laughin, picturin her like, “Who this clumsy chick?” Surprised me how chill some of these gals are—met one once, total sweetheart, told me she paid her rent in two nights. Hustle harder than me on tour, damn! But ugh, the sleazy pimps? Trash. Made me wanna scream, “Leave her alone, you monster!”—movie vibes again.

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Then, outta nowhere, this old lady comes up to me. She’s got this wild hairdo, like she just stuck her finger in a socket. She’s all, “You know, dear, if you talk to your plants, they grow better.” I’m like, “Lady, I’m not about to have a convo with a marigold.” But she’s persistent. So, I’m like, “Alright, let’s give it a shot.” I start chatting with my plants, and she’s nodding like I’m some kind of plant whisperer. I swear, I saw a daisy perk up. Maybe she’s onto something?

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