Mari Zandberg Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Eindhoven

So, picture this – me, Larry, huntin’ for a good time. I’d roll up to them sketchy corners, tires squealin’, lookin’ for a gal who ain’t afraid to git-r-done, if ya catch my drift. Them streets? Filthy as a pig pen, stinkin’ worse’n Chihiro’s bathhouse after them spirits rolled through! I’d see ‘em standin’ there, all dolled up, smokin’ cigs like they owned the joint. Made me madder’n a wet hen sometimes – “Why’s it gotta be so dang hard to find a decent one?!” I’d holler in my head.

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After that, I head over to the market on the Marktstraat. It’s bustling, people everywhere. I love it! I’m checking out the stalls, and I see this old lady selling cheese. I’m a sucker for cheese, man. Gouda, Edam, you name it. I start chatting with her, and she’s telling me about her life. She’s lived in Zandberg forever. I’m thinking, “Wow, this town has some history.”

Three women shaking up Israeli politics: Shaked, Shasha-Biton, Zandberg