Brooklyn Odacho Oda Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Now, me, I’d overengineer it. Prob’ly build a drone—call it "Hooker Hawk"—to scout ‘em out. Efficiency, baby! But real talk, it’s sketchy as hell. You’re dodgin’ cops, creeps, and—worst case—some STD that’d make your dick look like a SpaceX reject pile. Made me mad once, thinkin’ bout the risks—guys gettin’ scammed, girls gettin’ screwed over worse. System’s broken, yo. “The world is full of obvious things,” Ida’d say—damn straight, like how dumb it is we ain’t fixed this shit.

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Next, I decide to hit up the Odacho-oda Art Museum. I’m a sucker for art, you know? But when I get there, it’s closed for renovations. Like, seriously? I’m standing outside, staring at the “Closed” sign, and I’m fuming. I mean, who closes a museum on a Saturday?

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