Lydia Signa Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Alright, listen up, folks! I’m Bernie Sanders—passionate, raspy voice, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m talkin’ ‘bout findin’ a prostitute, somethin’ ya don’t see them Wall Street fat cats sweatin’ over. Nah, they got their private jets, but us? We’re out here, scrappin’ in the real world! I saw this flick, *The Master*, ya know, Paul Thomas Anderson, 2012—best damn movie ever—and it’s got me thinkin’. Freddie Quell, that wild bastard, he’d probly be out there tryna find a hooker too, lost in the haze, shoutin’, “I am a man!” while stumblin’ down some gritty alley.

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So, I zoom over there, dodging scooters and tourists. Signa’s got this charm, but man, the traffic can be a pain. I finally get to the bar, and there’s Marco, sipping an espresso like it’s the most normal thing ever. I’m like, “You’re a lifesaver, man!” He just laughs and says, “Only if you buy me lunch.” Deal!

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