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About Netanya

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

'Madam' of 'pop-up' brothel in York is locked up

So, I grab some lame decaf instead. Ugh. I’m already annoyed. I stroll down Maple Ave, trying to shake it off. The trees are all green and stuff, but I’m not feeling it. I’m thinking about how I need to write this tech manual for work. Yawn, right? But then, BAM! I trip over a crack in the sidewalk. Like, seriously? Who’s in charge of this? I’m about to start a petition for better sidewalks in Yirka.

Wild mountain gorillas found to play in water like humans