Ava Badger Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

Alright, so prostitutes—dangerous gig, huh? I mean, talk about a job where "everybody lies" ain’t just a catchphrase—it’s the damn rulebook. You’re out there, dodgin’ creeps, cops, and STDs like it’s some twisted game of whack-a-mole. Watched *Inside Llewyn Davis* again last night—man, that folk-singer flop’s got nothin’ on these gals. Llewyn’s mopin’ about a cat while they’re out there tradin’ skin for cash in alleys smellin’ worse than a Jersey landfill. “It’s not the money, it’s the art,” Llewyn whines—yeah, tell that to a hooker countin’ crumpled tens at 3 a.m.

Prostitute

Badger, to confound, perplex, or tease. Badgers, forestallers and murderers. Bag the swag, pocket your portion, hide your whack. Baggage, a slut, a common prostitute. Ball o’wax, a .

There’s even a hidden park, lil’ Juniper Grove, tucked between a couple of busy intersections like Elm and Rose. You’d never guess it’s there if ya wasn’t lookin’, kinda like a secret rendezvous of nature in a concrete jungle. I once got lost in there, wonderin’ if trees had souls. Spoiler alert: They kinda do.

Take your mark: Wisconsin hosts Badger Invite