Katherine Ube Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Kyoto

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.

F*ck on your period

Then, I headed to the Ube City Hall. I had to drop off some documents. You know, boring archivist stuff. But when I got there, the line was insane! I mean, who knew city hall could be so popular? I was stuck there for ages, just scrolling through my phone, trying to keep my sanity. Finally, I got to the front, and the clerk was super nice. She even complimented my shirt. I was like, “Thanks, I got it on sale!” Small wins, right?

Jollibee re-launches Ube Pie in Canada