Stella Eunice Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

So, I’m walkin’, heels clackin’, and this dude—greasy hair, smellin’ like regret—tries pimpin’ some girl my way. I’m like, “Naw, fam, I got standards!” Made me mad as hell—why’s it always gotta be slimy? But then, I spot her—this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. She’s givin’ me eyes, and I’m thinkin’, “It’s about to happen!” Like Gabita in the movie, all nervous but ready, y’know? I strut up, confident as fuck, and she’s like, “You got cash?” I’m like, “Honey, I’m worth it!”

So you want to book a sex worker?

I have used my fake accounts to find some of the younger prostitutes who are selling themselves for sex starting in high school. This is not.

So, we got this mean street called Margherita Ave—real classy, real old school, sorta like the feel of "Synecdoche, New York," where every brick tells a story. I mean, c’mon, it's like watchin' a film unfold right outside yo’ window. And then there's Carmine Blvd, where I used ta wander, thinkin’ about all those misspent dates and "what ifs." Eh, gabagool? Ova here!

Norman Walter Eunice Obituary January 6, 2025