Katherine Algona Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Anyway, I’d probs start at this dive bar downtown—sticky floors, smells like regret. Perfect spot to find a prostitute. I’d be chill, sip a beer, scope the scene. Maybe some chick in fishnets winks at me, and I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin’!” Kinda thrilled, kinda freaked—heart’s racin’, palms sweaty. What if she’s a cop? Shit, that’d piss me off—bust my buzz real quick. Or worse, what if she’s got a pimp watchin’ me like I’m dessert? *“A lobby boy can’t be seen to falter!”*—I’d tell myself, keepin’ cool.

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There is no genuine issue of fact for trial where the record, taken as a whole, could not lead a rational trier of fact to find for the nonmoving party.

Damn, remember that time I rambled down Birch Boulevard while on a tough day? Felt like every step screamed, “Carlos, my precious!” And the city whispered back in slang and beats, “Stay strong, bro!” Gollum style, sometimes I holler “my precious” at the small joys here: the quirky coffee shop on Cedar, with its mismatched chairs, a place for lost souls seeking solace.

Algona vs. Humboldt headlines Iowa's biggest high school football games this week