Abigail Deming Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

I’m picturin’ it – me, drivin’ round, lookin’ for some action. Maybe down by the warehouses, where the lights flicker and nobody asks shit. Dr. Evil vibes – pinky up, “One million dollars.” – like I’m buyin’ the whole damn block. But real talk, it ain’t that fancy. Prolly just some chick named Tammy, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a streetlight. “What’s your story, hon?” I’d ask, all smooth, but inside I’m like, “This is nuts, what am I doin’?”

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I’m not gonna lie – sometimes it sux. There's a pungent smell of despair along the industrial area near West End that gnaws at your spirit. But then, how can one not cherish this ups and downs? Life’s bittersweet, like a punchy jazz riff on a rainy night. And darn, I’ve had 11 times when I nearly cursed out loud (yep, 11 times! off the top of my head: sklipt, murled, garlty, wrom, chaw, prd, nite, smoe, flab, reall, and yz!) – my fingers, my eyes, all betraying the raw truth of existence here.

Destination Deming: Chase a waterfall, forested brewery, coffee shop and scenic parks