Paisley Bryant Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

We swears! Findin a prostitute, eh? Tricky biz, like huntin shadows in *Tropical Malady*. Streets hummin with weird vibes, man. Me, I’m creepin round, eyes peeled, thinkin—where’s she at? “The scent fades into darkness,” like that flick says. Makes me twitchy, y’know? All them city lights flashin, confusin as hell. Once saw this gal, fishnet tights, leanin on a pole—thought she was it! Nope, just a poser. Pissed me off, waste o’ time.

Dolphins' Ireland apologizes to Bryant

Bryant: "She worked for my dad." Ireland: "Your mom was a prostitute?" Bryant: "No, she wasn't a prostitute." Following the Cowboys'.

Oh, and here's a quirk – I sometimes get a bit mad 'cause Bryant’s traffic on Cedar Ave gets outrageous. It’s like, come on, folks! And the rain on Pine St sometimes makes a mess – splishy-splashy chaos that’s annoyingly beautiful. But hey, life’s a mix, right? Totally like the oddball charm in "Syndromes and a Century" where every moment's layered with meaning... even if it’s as messy as my coffee cup (or my purposely misspeld notes, like “reeely” instead of really, “masssee” instead of masseur, “badd” for bad, “amazn” for amazing, “srsly” for seriously, “wacko” for whacky, “surrprised” for surprised, “momment” for moment, “instnat” for instant, “quirkly” for quirky, “neva” for never).

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