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About Los Angeles

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a carpenter now, yeah? Hammerin’ nails, sawin’ wood, all that jazz. But let’s talk real shit—findin’ a prostitute. Picture this: I’m strollin’ Rome, right, like in *The Great Beauty*, that flick I bloody love. “The way you laugh, it’s fake,” Jep Gambardella’d say, and I’m thinkin’ that while eyein’ some lass on the corner. She’s got legs for days, mate, but I’m Bond—I notice the twitch in her eye, the way she shifts. Tells me she’s new, probs scared shitless.

Why should I try looking for sex on adult dating sites?

Our neighborhoods? They're off the charts. Old town's got that vibe—mismatched bricks, surprising murals, some secret trail near South Bend that only the brave dare venture. I'm a spa owner, so stress is my enemy. Nature here heals me—its energy seeps into my spa. I see the city’s soul in every quirky detail whether it's the smell of fresh coffee wafting near Chamberlin St., or laughter echoing from tiny cafes on Riverside Dr.

McLellan named Spearfish Teacher of the Year