Ava Marathonas Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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I dig deeper, doc—X posts sayin’ some prostitutes in Vegas got secret codes. Like, wearin’ red shoes means they’re “available.” Wild, right? Dunno if it’s true, but it’s sneaky—like me dodgin’ Elmer Fudd! Made me happy, tho—humans are clever lil’ rascals. But then, ugh, the pimps—slimy jerks! Saw one yellin’ at a girl, pushin’ her around. Pissed me off, doc! Wanted to thump him with a mallet, cartoon-style—pow! Nobody deserves that crap.

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Yes, hire a prostitute. Affection, physical touch is not solved with mental gymnastics. It might take a couple of tries to find a woman that '.

I’m walking along the coast, trying to chill. The vibe is nice, but then I see this group of tourists. They’re lost, looking at a map like it’s a Rubik’s cube. I’m like, “C’mon, it’s not that hard!” But I help ‘em out. Turns out they’re looking for the Marathon Tomb. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just up the road!” They’re all excited, snapping pics. I’m happy for them, but also, like, why can’t I find that kind of joy in my life?

China pits humanoid robots against humans in half-marathon