Lily Land O' Lakes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

I’m Christopher freakin’ Walken. I notice – the shoes. Worn-out heels. Tells a story. She’s hustlin’. Like Llewyn. Singin’ for scraps. I ask – “how much?” She smirks. “Fifty.” I laugh. Loud. Fifty bucks? For *that*? I’m pissed. Inflation’s a bitch. Back in ‘89 – twenty tops. Fact. Little known. Prostitutes – they’d haggle. Like flea market. Nowadays? Greedy.

Ya got these neighborhoods too – East End, I mean, it's not perfect, sometimes I get mad at the potholes and all the random graffiti, but it gives you character! And Westside? Oh boy, the coffee shop on Elm st. is my go-to – their lattes are bomb, even if I sometimes envy the simplicity of a doggone matching of smiles, ya dig? Hahaha, I gotta say – in this city, even minor streets like Oak Ln. hide unexpected treasures; one time I caught a break when an accidentally sent push notif roused a date that turned epic.

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