Ivy Whittier Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Last week, right, I’m in a tavern, tankard in hand, scopin’ the room. This bird—red lips, skirts hiked up—winks at me. I’m thinkin’, “Tyrion, you clever bastard, she’s yours.” But nah, she’s got a pimp, uglier than Gregor Clegane, breath like a latrine. Pissed me off—why’s everythin’ gotta be so complicated? “Be quiet and do what I say,” she whispers, like I’m some green boy. Cheeky cow! I’m the Imp, I know tricks she ain’t dreamed of. Paid her double just to shut her gob and get on with it. Felt good, though—coin well spent.

Transport from airports

I’ve got typos in my brain, man—like, smudgy, rushed thoughts all day. Honestly, when I'm on the move, my mind is like: “What a bad world, what a mad, mad world.” I get so irked by the facades people wear. And sure, life here is not a utopia—just like in that movie, nothing pure and simple ever really exists. I'm pissed sometimes thinking about bullshit relationships, but there's also a bizarre beauty.

PIH Health to pay government $600,000 for privacy violations from 2019 phishing attack