Penelope Snyder Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, right? Insurance agent by day, Larry David by—well, all the time. And I’m thinkin’ about this whole “find a prostitute” deal. I mean, what’s the deal with that? It’s like, you’re out there, lookin’ for somethin’, and bam—there’s a transaction! Pretty, pretty good, huh? Except it’s not! It’s a mess, a total mess! I’m gettin’ all worked up just typin’ this—fingers shakin’, typos everywhere, probly 12 by now.

My Knowing Glance, by Lucy A. Snyder

The Ash and Furst motels are in the heart of the Figueroa strip, a section of south Los Angeles cluttered with prostitutes and drug dealers.

I hang around in the Rusty Spoon Bar. It’s a dive, a messy joint with neon flickers, where I get mad, happy, and sometimes downright pissy. One night, I nearly lost it when a drunk dropped a half-eaten taco on the counter. I mean come on, really? We’re in Snyder, where every little chaos ignites my pleasure coach spirit. I'm livin’ for these imperfect moments.

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