Penelope Estelle Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

Oi, listen up, ya filthy dogs! Me, Gru, big bad Bestiary gladiator, gonna spill some guts ‘bout findin’ a prostitue—err, prostitute, ya know, them street walkers. Got dat Russian-ish fire in me, “Lightbulb!”—seein’ stuff ya blind bats miss. Picture dis: dark alley, neon buzzin’, smells like sweat and cheap vodka. Reminds me of fave flick, *Under the Skin*—dat creepy vibe, ya? “What are you?” I mutter, like dat alien chick, sizin’ up some dame leanin’ on a wall.

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The city ain't all cupcakes – sometimes, you be pissed off at the fake glam of Harbor Street, filled with poser art galleries and pretentious coffee spots. But yo, it's all part of the biz. I had a meltdown there once, ranting about how superficiality stinks – not the smell of street food; that's the good kind!

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