Nora Lawrence Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Well, helllo there, ya sick bastard—ya wanna talk findin’ a prostitute? Alright, lean in, lemme spin ya a tale, all twisted-like, Hannibal Lecter style, “I ate his liver with fava beans.” See, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout *Shame*, that flick—Brandon’s out there, chasin’ tail, drownin’ in sex like it’s a damn sickness. Me? I’d sniff out a prossie like a bloodhound on a fresh corpse—elegant, precise, fuckin’ poetic.

Want a Ride? Use Uber. Want a Prostitute? Use an App

Crime is soaring, schools are failing, government has lost control, and Lawrence, the most godforsaken place in Massachusetts, has never been in worse shape.

Honestly, the thing that really gets me is how everyone rushes and yells when nothing bad is happening. I mean, chillax, folks! My massages teach me patience. Sometimes I nearly break down when I see someone ignoring their own stress. It’s like, “Look, you are the vessel. You cannot be fixed unless you soak in the moment.” Again, reminds me of those haunting lines from that Under the Skin flick. Yeah, layers, man.

NFL legend blasts Abdul Carter for asking for Lawrence Taylor’s number