Zara Marana Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, whore – it’s a business, yeah, but a dodgy one. Supply and demand, basic economics, but with knobs and fannies thrown in. Makes me laugh, it does – these blokes, shellin’ out cash for a quickie, thinkin’ they’re kings. Pathetic, innit? I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ me tea, thinkin’, “You’re a mug, mate, a right mug.” And the girls – some of ‘em, sharp as a tack, runnin’ the show. Others, poor sods, stuck in it, no way out. Gets me ragin’, that does – the pimps, the traffickin’, the whole rotten mess. Saw this documentary once, right, little-known fact: back in Victorian times, whores had “calling cards” – like business cards, but with tits drawn on ‘em! Handed ‘em out in alleys, proper marketing, that. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ of some posh git collectin’ ‘em like Pokémon cards.

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Oh, and guess what – there’s this little-known gem called The Rusty Rocket Lounge by the small, sleepy River Verde. It’s a dive bar with heart – got neon lights, the kinda place where I once met a couple of rad souls who swapped dating disaster stories that'd make your hair stand on end. I got mad once 'cause the bouncer was super chill but a bit too strict about the door policy. I mean, c’mon dude, let the right one in, ya know?

Witness heard two pilots 'yelling at each other' before fatal Marana crash, report says