Eliza Kirby Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dallas

*Heavy breathing* I am your father. So, listen up, kid—findin’ a prostitute? Wild stuff, man. Been thinkin’ bout this lately, sittin’ here, watchin’ *Before Sunset*. You know, that flick where Jesse and Celine just wander, talkin’ shit, spillin’ their guts? Kinda reminds me of the streets—lost souls, lookin’ for somethin’. Anyway, findin’ a hooker ain’t like orderin’ pizza, nah. Takes guts, takes knowin’ the dark corners.

So you want to book a sex worker?

Kinda random, but I had this wicked experience one hot summer afternoon. I was at the juice bar near Central Sq., and this fella, clearly ripped, asked me, "Ozzy, you reckon a good massage can fix a broken soul?" And I was like, "Bloody hell, mate, sometimes ya need more than a massage!" Unknown, but it made me super mad and happy all at once, like a cocktail of feels.

Kirby (shoulder inflammation) takes first big step in rehab