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Oh, honey, lemme spill the tea—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” style! Escorts, ugh, they’re like gladiators, fightin’ in a diff rent arena, ya know? I’m talkin’ ‘bout escort—not the car, ha, tho that’d be a twist! Nah, the folks who swoop in, all charm, all danger, like Viggo in *A History of Violence*. “You’re the best, Tom,” they’d purr, but with a wink that says trouble’s brewin’. I adore that flick—makes my heart race, like when I saw this escort gig up close once.

Escort – Ogłoszenia towarzyskie

Finally, I get him sorted. He leaves, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, bam! Next client is this kid, maybe 12, with a mohawk. He’s like, “I want it bright green!” I’m like, “Bro, you sure?” He’s all in, so I’m like, “Alright, let’s do this.” Halfway through, his mom bursts in, all panicked. “What are you doing to my son?!” I’m like, “Chill, lady, it’s just hair!” She’s not havin’ it. I’m tryin’ to explain that it’s just a phase, but she’s givin’ me the death stare. I’m like, “Lady, I’m a barber, not a babysitter!”

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