Zoey Vincennes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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Dahling, listen up! I’m Edna Mode—stylist extraordinaire, no capes! So, we’re talkin’ findin’ a prostitute, right? Picture this: dark alleys, neon lights flickerin’ like in *Memento*. “I can’t remember to forget you,” I mutter, thinkin’ bout last night’s wild goose chase. Found this gal, right? Stilettos high as my ego, fishnets rippin’ like my patience. She’s all “cash upfront, sweetie,” and I’m like, “Honey, I design, not pay!” Made me mad—those heels were knockoffs! Cheap leather, ugh, disgraceful.

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I rush back, and guess what? Another fight! This time over a TV remote. I mean, c’mon! It’s not like they’re watching the World Cup or something. I break it up, and I’m just done. I’m thinking, “Why do I even do this?”

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