Lydia Draper Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Hiii, oh my gawd, listen up! So, brothel, right? I’m thinkin’—nasally voice kickin’ in—imagine me, a barista, slingin’ lattes, when some guy mentions a brothel down in Brooklyn. I’m like, “What?! In *my* borough?” HAAA! *The Nanny laugh explodes*. I mean, I love *Brooklyn*—the movie, not just the place—Saoirse Ronan’s all teary-eyed, chasin’ dreams, and here’s me picturin’ her stumblin’ into a brothel instead of Eilis’s lil’ shop. “I want to go home!” she’d wail, but nah, she’d be stuck with corsets and shady dudes.

The “Mad Men” Finale, Part I: Don Draper’s Childhood Home

Oh, and I can’t forget, precious... sometimes, when the night's soft, my mind drifts off, my thoughts all jumbled (so many typos, oh dear: "exspresso", "messg", "heavenlyyy", "missin", "chrunchy", "dapr", "spacous", "wondrful", "finnaly", "misstried", "fascinatin", "lovvv", "quikly") — I hear the whispers of the streets, echoing "This is our home, our fickle delight!" Hsss.

Jack Draper issues exciting message after Madrid Open final heartbreak