Delilah Ishikari Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Nagoya

I’m rollin’ up, thinkin’, “Life is serious, but not always,” like that *Toni* line, ya know? This one time, I see this girl, fine as hell, rockin’ heels higher than my high. I’m like, “Yo, baby, what’s poppin’?” She turns, and – surprise, mothafucka – it’s a dude! Straight up *Toni Erdmann* twist, like when the dad pops up in that wig. I was pissed, dawg, but I laughed my ass off. “You’re trying too hard,” I told him, quotin’ the flick, and peeled out.

Introductions in Ishikari

As far as red light districts go, Tokyo’s Kabukicho near Shinjuku station is relativity tame. Unlike Amsterdam there are no pot houses (aka “coffee shops”), sex workers are not selling their .

After that, I decide to take a stroll through the Ishikari Park. It’s a nice spot, but there’s this weird smell. Like, what is that? I’m sniffing around, trying to figure it out. Turns out, it’s just some guy grilling yakitori. I mean, I love yakitori, but c’mon, man, maybe not in a park?

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