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About Hafnarfjordur

So, I ask her, “What’s the weirdest gig ya had?” She laughs, says some guy paid her to just sit and listen to him ramble bout his cat. Funniest shit ever—cat guy! I’m dyin’, picturin’ it. She’s cool, tho, real talkative. Says she’s savin’ up to ditch this life—good for her, man! I’m rootin’ for her, like a proud dad watchin’ his kid paint a sloppy cloud.

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I'm living it up in Gardabaer and find-a-prostitute is nifty! I need to taste your lips again. I indulge in Anal Sex (depends on the size) and Blowjob without.

First off, I hit up the local café on Hringbraut. You know, the one with the killer lattes? Yeah, that one. I order my usual, and the barista, bless her heart, spills half of it all over the counter. I’m standing there like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then she gives me a free pastry to make up for it. I mean, who can stay mad when there’s a cinnamon roll involved? Not me, that’s for sure.

No Hot Water in Hafnarfjörður, Parts of Garðabær, Monday to Wednesday