Emilia Santee Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Philadelphia

So here’s the deal—financially speakin’, hirin’ a prostitute’s a disaster. You’re throwin’ cash out the window—poof!—gone! No 401(k) for that, no tax write-off, nothin’. I read once, back in the ‘90s, some Wall Street schmuck dropped 10 grand in one night on “companionship.” Ten grand! Coulda bought a yacht—or at least a decent sandwich. Made me mad as hell—wastin’ money like that? I’d rather choke on my own tie. But then, I get it—some folks got urges, they’re lonely, whatever. Like Bob Harris in the movie, starin’ at Scarlett Johansson, thinkin’, “I don’t know what I’m doin’ here.” Except it’s not Scarlett—it’s some chick named Candy with a fake tan.

Joe Harris, oldest WWII paratrooper who paved way for Black soldiers, dies at 108

Santee's vibe is raw, messy, yet kind – kinda like me debugging a dating site at 3 AM. Typos, all that ball of chaos – it rarrghs its own tune. I’ve had days where I’d be like “wtf, life, it’s all just sketches” and then BAM, the city hits you back with its quirky secrets.

Christie Sets Record, Takes $100,000 NPFL Check at Santee Cooper