Emily Cortland Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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So, one night, I’m done haulin’ hay—friggin’ exhaustin’, man! Hands all gritty, back achin’ like I wrestled a pig. I think, “Marge’d kill me, but I’m curious!” D’oh! Ain’t lookin’ for love, just a yarn to spin. I roll by this dive bar—neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk too. See this gal, all fishnets and attitude, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Every family’s got its mysteries,” I mutter, quotin’ Sarah Polley—ha! She’s smokin’ a cig, givin’ me the eye. I’m like, “Homer, don’t be a dope!”

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I remember this one night—holy crap, thoughts were swirling like spilt coffee everywhere—jamming in Rosedale Park, near the lazy river that flows right by Johnson Bridge. Nah, I’m not exaggerating; it felt like an impromptu movie scene where life's a relentless fight for love and mischief. The river? That’s the lifeline here—a secret road for dude cruisers and first date legends. Street names? Ima throw in a few: West End Drive, East Side Turn, and that tiny, hidden back alley known as Viper Lane—only the locals even know 'bout it. Go figure, right?!

No. 3 Men's Lacrosse holds on for a 12-10 win at No. 17 Cortland