Brianna King's Lynn Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Birmingham

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

After that, I’m feelin’ a bit sore, but whatever. I decide to check out the Custom House. It’s this beautiful old building by the river. I’m standin’ there, takin’ pics, when I hear this commotion. Turns out, there’s a street performer doin’ some crazy juggling act. I’m talkin’ fire, knives, the whole shebang. I’m like, “This guy’s either a genius or a total nutter.”

Man who refused roadside drug test questioned its ‘reliability’