Vanessa Blue Bell Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Philadelphia

In the end, we chat more’n anything—me ramblin’ about Thor bein’ a prat, her spillin’ about punters who cry after. Hilarious, yet sad—humanity’s a mess, eh? Didn’t even get her name, but I’m buzzin’. Findin’ a prostitute ain’t just the deed—it’s the dance, the mischief. Next time, I’m bringin’ gold—none o’ this Midgard cash rubbish. Loki don’t skimp! “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” after all—makin’ nights like this legendary. What a riot!

‘No jurisdiction’

Bluebell tastes just like a hooker's ass. Something tells me that the advertising executives wouldn't go for that. They would cite reasons.

Oh, and you gotta check out the neighborhood cafes near BlueRock Lane. Their coffee’s the only thing stronger than my opinions. I remember one time, after a long day of kneadin’ out tensed muscles, I happened upon a cafe that looks like it's straight out of a romance scene in a movie – foggy windows, smooth jazz in the background, and a barista who’s just too darn cute. But, lemme tell ya, it's not all roses. Some areas, like the derelict block near Granite Street, make me mad. I mean, come on, folks, keep it together! I’m here massaging backbones, not patching up crime scenes.

Morning Smile: TIA tries new Blue Bell Banana Fudge ice cream