Mila Land O' Lakes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Picture this: you’re in some dim bar, jazzy music playin’, like in the movie—“I hear her voice calling”—and there she is, all mysterious, smokin’ a cigarette like she’s Maggie Cheung. You’re nervous, sweatin’ bullets, thinkin’, “Am I cool enough for this?” Pro tip: cash only, no cards—don’t be that idiot leavin’ a paper trail. And don’t haggle like a cheapskate—pisses me off when dudes do that. Have some class, ya dope! I mean, “The air is full of madness,” right? That’s the thrill—danger, secrets, the whole shebang.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in coding and swipe algorithms that I almost miss out on these tiny moments, but Land-O'-Lakes keeps callin’ me back. I sometimes get mad at the late-night bugs in my code but then, a stroll down by the old Mill Rd. reminds me the world’s still magical, even if I type a few typos here and there (totes not perfect, right? like "thsi" or "watc").

Land O'Lakes removes Native American woman from packaging