Savannah Nagyatad Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Budapest

Alright, pal, you want Dr. House? Here I limp—sarcastic, bitter, and genius as hell. Finding a prostitute, huh? Everybody lies, especially when sex’s on the table. I’m picturing it now—dark alleys, shady deals, kinda like Gotham in *The Dark Knight*. “Why so serious?”—’cause paying for it’s a damn circus! You think they’re all honest about their “services”? Ha! I’d sooner trust the Joker with my Vicodin stash.

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Then, the door swings open, and in walks this old lady. She’s got this fierce look, like she’s seen it all. She orders a glass of red wine, and I’m thinking, “Okay, she’s classy.” But then she starts telling me about her cat, Mici, and how he’s the king of the house. I’m like, “Lady, I’m all for cat royalty, but I gotta serve drinks here!”

There's a reason Princess Diana never wore gloves