Freya Lower Allen Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

First off, these humans are WILD. Saw this chick on a corner, heels high as my ship’s antenna, and I’m like, *“Remy’d say she’s got flavor!”* Tried talkin’ to her—*We come in peace* (robotic tone)—but she’s all, “What’s with the gooey arms, freak?” Rude! Made me mad, like, c’mon, I’m a classy alien, not some slimy chump. But then she laughed, and I’m like, okay, she’s cool. Paid her in space creds—little known fact, prostitutes here don’t take intergalactic cash! Had to zap her some Earth bucks instead. Total hassle.

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Some forms of prostitution such as escorts have lower negative externalities than street prostitution (the worst) and brothels (second worst).

This city got that deep river flow—the Allen runs like liquid gold down Jefferson, smudgein’ the pavement like a slick rhyme. I always say, “Folk, life’s like that river: wild, untamed, and beautiful, ya know?” Just like in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford—snapshots of gritty moments, uncertain yet iconic, man. Like, “I reckon a man is known by the company he keeps” kinda vibe, feel me?

Man stole $7,000 from Camp Hill business, police attempting to identify