Ellie Yamada Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Kyoto

So, find a prostitute—where do I even start? I ain’t got Tinder on this rig, y’know? Maybe I’d cruise downtown, headlights blazin’, lookin’ for some action. “Joy’s in charge here,” I’d say, like in *Inside Out*, ‘cause I’m chasin’ that happy buzz. But then—bam—here comes Sadness, creepin’ in. What if she’s got a sob story? Like, her pimp’s a dick, or she’s savin’ for somethin’ big? I’d be all, “Aww, crap, now I’m sad!” Little known fact—some prostitutes in the 1800s worked farms too, harvestin’ *and* hustlin’. Wild, right?

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Finally, I get him out, and he’s all happy, wagging his tail like he just won the lottery. I’m like, “Dude, you owe me a drink!” But then, his owner shows up, and she’s this sweet old lady from the neighborhood. She’s so grateful, she offers me homemade mochi. I’m like, “Heck yeah!” Best reward ever!

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