Abigail Heathrow Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

So I’m walkin’, right? Down some sketchy alley—smells like piss and regret. I see this gal, lean dagger of a dame, leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she’s in a noir film. I’m thinkin’, “This ain’t right!” Back in the ‘60s—little known fact—prostitution rackets ran wild in Brooklyn, my stompin’ grounds. Mob’d shake ‘em down, leave ‘em broke. Now? Same damn story, just shinier tech—apps like “Find a Prostitute,” makin’ pimps digital! Billionaires profit, workers starve! “Billionaires should not exist!” I yell, fist shakin’. She looks at me, smirks—says, “Cool it, grandpa, want a date or not?”

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Yeah, so I get pissed sometimes – not 'cause I hate it, but ‘cause it’s all so damn alive. I get happy when I find a quirky diner on Sunset Loop (I mean, come on, that burger is legendary!). Got me hooked, like “Bonnie, you make me feel alive!” But then, man, traffic on Grand Spur is the pits. I’m ready to yell "Respect my authoritah!" every time a slowpoke blocks me in.

UK's Heathrow defends decision to shut airport amid blame game