Julia Cornuda Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Favorite flick vibes kick in hard. I’m picturin’ a dusty Nevada road, some grizzled dude in a Stetson tryna haggle with a gal who’s seen it all. “What’s the most you ever lost on a coin toss?” he asks her, all cryptic. She’s like, “Bruh, $200, non-negotiable.” I’m cacklin’—that’s the spirit! Dry, dark, no-BS humor. Makes me happy, seein’ folks keep it real. But then—boom—surprise! Some places, like Amsterdam, got it systematized. Red lights, tax forms, legit AF. Blew my mind—efficiency porn for a nerd like me.

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

acompañaba a mi amiga a casa de su novio, pero al descubrir que su novio esta muy guapo termino follandomelo es una cornuda. %2,

But then, I see this old lady sitting on a bench. She’s got this huge smile, and she’s feeding pigeons. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who feeds pigeons in 2023? But she’s living her best life, and I’m here grumbling about my shoes. So, I sit next to her, and we start chatting. Her name’s Maria, and she’s lived in Cornuda her whole life. She tells me about the old days, how the streets used to be empty, and now it’s all hustle and bustle. I’m like, “Wow, Maria, you’re a legend!”

The Daily Heller: Ciao, Tipografia Italiana