Emily Grapevine Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this chick, workin’ the corner, all sassy, smokin’ a cig like she don’t give a fuck. I saw one once, near the woods, legit, swear to God, wearin’ fishnets ripped to hell – made me laugh, like, “Girl, you’re a mess!” But damn, she had guts. Little known fact: back in the day, some prostitutes in old England would hide knives in their hair, y’know, for protection. Badass, right? Makes me happy thinkin’ bout that – clever as fuck. Dr. Evil – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.” – I’d pay to see that shit in action.

What is the Reykjavik Grapevine?

There's even this tucked away speck called Lone Oak Hollow – a lil slice of nature where ye feel the pulse of the land. Crazy, right? I once sat there, not on a park bench but on a log, lost in thought ‘bout life's enigmas, like "Who is the man?" echoing me inner voice, reminiscent of that mischievous Coen moment.

Portillo’s set for December opening in Grapevine