Violet Trets Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Toulouse

Oh! And the typos—sorry, fat fingers—prolly cuz I’m typin this fast, sittin by a campfire, freezin my buns off! Hah—imagine me hirin a prostitue? Homer’d divorce me faster’n you can say “D’oh!” Nah, I stick to guidin folks up cliffs, not into shady deals. But if ya ever need a laugh—next hike, just yell, “Where’s Snow Bunny?”—I’ll lose it! Hmm… nasal chuckle—crazy world, huh?

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My girlfriend is a prostitute. Its how we met. She is the one who started it with me, the whole love story. Now I am sitting here crying.

Then I stroll down to the Place de la Mairie. It’s buzzing, like always. Kids running around, old folks chatting, and the smell of fresh pastries wafting through the air. I’m thinking, “Life’s good.” But then, BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Seriously? I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” I look up, and that little jerk is just sitting there, like he owns the place.

In Sri Lanka, bushmeat poachers haven’t let up during lockdown