Aria Motueka Whore ❤️❤️

About Wellington

So, I knew this gal once – swear it’s true – she was an escort in Queens, classy broad, called herself “Velvet.” She’d strut in heels higher than my hair, and lemme tell ya, that’s HIGH. She said, “Fran, I make bank, but the stories? Nuts!” One dude paid her to just sit there, silent, watchin’ him eat spaghetti. Spaghetti! Can ya believe it? I was dyin’, like, “What’s next, sauce on his face?” She laughed, said it beats waitin’ tables. Fair, fair.

Discover what makes us different

This crackhead whore nearly smashed the side of my car as she illegally cut across two lanes to drive around me to get in front while turning the corner.

After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Sunday. It’s on the corner of Whakarewa St and I’m telling ya, it’s a vibe. Fresh produce, handmade crafts, and the best part? The people! Everyone’s so chill. I grab some fresh strawberries, and they’re like candy. I’m in heaven again.

Storage for Motueka museum ‘critical’