Delilah Woodward Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Chicago

So I’m peekin’ round, thinkin’, “Where’s these lasses at?” Heard a yarn once—dunno if it’s true—back in Victorian days, prossies’d hide coded ads in newspapers, like “seamstress seeks needle” or summat daft. Clever, eh? Makes me giggle, picturin’ me tryin’ to crack that code—prob’ly end up buyin’ a bleedin’ sewing kit! So I’m mumblin’ to meself, “Find a prostitute, find a prostitute,” when—BAM!—this bird in fishnets pops outta nowhere. “Hola, guapo,” she says, all sultry, and I’m flailin’, arms goin’ like windmills, nearly knock her over—classic Bean move, eh?

Kardashians, Prostitution, Siblings, Lavinia Woodward case

There’s a cool neighborhood called Redwood Quarter... oh, man, it’s got tiny cafes that smell like fresh brew, where you'd overhear deep, cosmic convos like, “Time is the fire in which we burn” – true words from someone who watched that movie on repeat. I sometimes get mad at how fast time flies here, yet so happy for the burst of life every corner offers.

Gary Lee Woodward Obituary March 9, 2025