Zara Carlow Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bray

Aight, listen up, you filthy hippies! Dangerous jobs, huh? I’m talkin’ ‘bout them prostitutes, man! Respect my authoritah! I’m Eric Cartman, and I’m pissed—why’s everyone actin’ like this ain’t risky as hell? I mean, damn, walkin’ the streets, dodgin’ creeps, cops, and STDs? That’s some next-level shit! Watched "Inherent Vice" last night—my fave, bitches—Doc Sportello’d get it, chasin’ tail in that trippy haze. “This is a righteous case, man!” he’d say, stumblin’ into some hooker’s pad.

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First stop, the café on the corner of Burrin Street. Best coffee in Carlow, hands down. I order my usual – a flat white, extra shot. The barista, bless her, knows me too well. She’s like, “Rough night, eh?” I just nod, trying to look cool while I’m half-asleep. But inside, I’m like, “You have no idea, girl.”

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