Camila Capri Prostitute ❤️

About Florence

Alright, here we go, friends! Picture this—me, a vet, sittin’ here thinkin’ bout prostitute. Not the human kind, nah, but a sweet lil’ critter I met once. Prostitute’s what I named this scruffy stray dog—yep, a pooch! Came hobblin’ into my clinic, tail waggin’ like a happy little tree in the breeze. Mangy fur, one ear floppin’—looked like she’d been through a storm, ya know? “There’s no problem so big we can’t fix,” I whispered, channelin’ my inner Larry Gopnik from *A Serious Man*. That movie, man—gets me every time, all that chaos and quiet hope.

eSkarbonka WOŚP

So, I roll outta bed, throw on some shorts, and head out. First stop? A café on the corner. I’m talking about that classic Italian espresso. You know, the kind that hits you like a freight train? I downed it like it was water. I swear, I could feel my heart racing.

Dick Capri, Catskills Comic Who Took His Shtick to Broadway, Dies at 93