Sofia Woodend Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Melbourne

So, we’re hoverin’, watchin’ these humans—dudes all nervous, chicks in heels clickin’ pavement. One time, back in ‘89—little known fact—cops busted this joint in Amsterdam, found a diary of some girl, writin’ bout her cat more than her clients. Hilarious! Made me laugh, like, “Yo, even aliens get pets, but this?” Got me happy for a sec—then pissed. Cuz some jerk yells at her, “Move it, slut!” and I’m like, “Bro, chill, she’s just tryna eat!” Humans, man, so rude sometimes.

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Ya know, sometimes I think Woodend casts a spell over me. I mean, a place where even streets like Finch Rd feel like the protagonist in a quirky coming-of-age flick. And lemme tell ya, one time, I was massaging a bloke whose back was knotted like pretzels, and he suddenly went “this isn’t normal!” – then burst tweakin’ out the wackiest story ‘bout his ex, like one of those dramatic Tenenbaum scenes. I was like, “Whoa, did I just massage memory into your muscles?” Classic.

Keeping koala’s safe