Stella Okawa Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kyoto

So I’m skulkin’ about, right, tryna find a tart—ain’t as easy as you’d think! Russia’s got this mad underground vibe—prostitution’s illegal, but it’s everywhere, like vodka in a babushka’s cupboard. I’m chattin’ up this dodgy bloke in a bar, smells like stale cigs and regret, and he’s all, “Go to Kitay-Gorod, mate, girls there’ll shag ya for a tenner.” A tenner! I’m cacklin’—what a bargain, eh? Made me happy as a pig in shite, coz I love a good deal. But then I’m thinkin’, *Spotlight* style, “How do you ignore this?”—coz these lasses ain’t exactly livin’ the dream, are they? Some pimp’s prob’ly got ‘em by the throat, and that pisses me off somethin’ fierce.

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First off, I hit up Kameyama Street. It’s packed with shops and food stalls. I’m like, “Yo, where’s the forest?” But then I smell takoyaki. Ugh, my stomach’s like, “Feed me!” So, I grab a couple. They’re hot, gooey, and just the right amount of octopus. I’m in heaven, but then—BAM!—some dude bumps into me. I spill my takoyaki all over my shirt. Great. Just great. I’m now the guy with octopus on his chest.

World’s oldest person dies, awful CNN article