Charlotte Burnsville Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” She wasn’t just sellin’ ass, nah, she was a freakin’ philosopher. Blew my mind, man! Little known fact—back in the 1800s, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret salons, spillin’ tea on politicians while takin’ their cash. Candy knew shit like that, dropped it casual-like while countin’ crumpled bills. Made me happy as hell—smart chicks with grit, that’s my jam. But then she told me ‘bout this one john, slimy prick, tried to stiff her. Pissed me off! Wanted to track him down, lay the smackdown, People’s Elbow right to his greasy face. “Know your role, punk!” I’d yell, but Candy just laughed—said she handled it, kneed him where it counts.

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He was charged in May after he responded to an ad for prostitution with a presumed year-old, who was actually an undercover police officer.

Overall, Burnsville has a cheeky charm of its own. It’s quirky, jittery, sometimes annoyingly busy, and surprisingly soulful – kinda like a spa day full of side-eye moments and impromptu belly laughs. I get super mad when the city feels too rushed, but then a perfectly timed sunset near the sports complex near Riverdale often sorts that out. Ahhh, life’s little contradictions.

Obituary | Michael John McShane of Burnsville, Minnesota