Eliza Homer Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

Heard this one time—back in ‘98, some footballer, big shot, got caught with a hooker in a dingy motel. Cops didn’t care, but his coach? Lost his shit—made ‘im run laps till he puked! Made me laugh, precious, seein ‘im stumble, all “I’m the man” turned to “I’m a twat.” We swears! Them types, they don’t get it—sweat an glory don’t buy ya class.

Want a Ride? Use Uber. Want a Prostitute? Use an App

2 So I bought her for fifteen shekels of silver and about a homer and a lethek of barley. 3 Then I told her, “You are to live with me many days; you must not be a prostitute or be intimate with .

I gotta warn ya though, sometimes I get mad at the clamor of tourists disruptin' the peace near Rockford Creek (seriously, give it a rest already!). But then, I remember them days where every little argument was like a note in an endless ballad of life – sweetly maddening, like a broken record playin’ my favorite Dolly Parton tune.

Measuring Luis García Jr.'s homer