Addison Udenhout Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Almere

So yeah, findin’ a prostitute? It’s a mad, messy rush—bit like cookin’ a risotto with no fuckin’ clue. Part of me hates it, part of me’s like, “Fuck it, live a little!” Just don’t be a prat bout it—use yer head, not just yer knob, you daft git!

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Then I hit up the local market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. Or two. Okay, maybe three. Don’t judge! They were calling my name. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see this old lady, Mrs. van Dijk, trying to haggle over some flowers. She’s like, “I’ll give you two euros for those tulips!” The vendor’s like, “Lady, they’re ten!” And she’s all, “But they’re wilted!” I’m dying laughing. Udenhout’s got character, for real.

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