Elise Claremore Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

Here’s a quirky bit—didja know some old ports had “prostitute fish”? Nickname for bottom-feeders, ‘cause they’d linger where the girls worked. Stinky, slimy, perfect match! Cracked me up, but also—eww, right? My brain’s like, “Dr. Evil, don’t overthink it,” but I do. Always. Exaggerating? Maybe. But it’s a jungle out there—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars!”—and these dames are apex predators.

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Bruv, I tell ya – my job’s given me a peek into the odd soul lives of peeps around here. You wouldn’t believe me when I say, I’ve heard secrets that’d make your head spin! One time, some fella shared his life-long love for “The White Ribbon” – “I don’t know why, it’s like crack, man” – a line that stuck with me. I always chuckle, like “Aiiight, but is it art or somethin’ else?” – his musings soundin' all deep and shite.

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