Elizabeth Seaside Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, so prostitute—yeah, the word’s a mess, ain’t it? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—as a vet, I deal with bitches all day, but this? This is next-level tail-chasin’. Everybody lies, right? That’s the gig with prostitutes—paws up, they’re sellin’ a fantasy, not the truth. Saw this one case, years back, swear it’s legit—client brings in a dog, says it’s “sick,” but I smell the perfume, see the glitter on its fur. Dude’s lyin’—Fido’s been hangin’ with a working girl! Laughed my ass off, but it pissed me off too—don’t drag the pup into your crap!

Untitled - The Whore Beach Towel

Most of the prostitutes and whore madams who appeared before court were married to sailors (De Wit ). According to foreigners who visited.

I been seein’ a lot of crazy characters here. Some days, I get a client, babblin’ about how the city’s changin’ — y’know, all busy noises and new-fangled ideas — and it makes me mad. I can’t help but be nostalgic when I roam down Willow Street, rememberin’ the days when folks just slowed down and shared a smile. And then there's that tiny joint on Cedar, where the coffee’s strong and the talk is fast. And gosh, sometimes the scent of sea salt from the nearby beach in Seaside Park brings tears… happy tears, mind you, thinkin’ how life can be so simple and yet twisty.

Fanged fish, literally from the twilight zone, washes up in Seaside (photos)