Rebecca Demarest Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi, listen up, ya filthy minion! Me, Gru, gonna spill some tea ‘bout findin’ a prostitute, ya? Lightbulb! Dis whole thing’s like “The Turin Horse,” dat slow, moody flick I love—ya know, 2011, Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, masterpiece, da horse ploddin’ through misery. Picture dis: I’m sneakin’ round some shady street, lookin’ fer a gal, right? Da wind’s howlin’, like in da movie—“Da storm begins!”—an’ I’m thinkin’, “Gru, ya mad genius, why dis life?”

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Now, don’t get me started on the traffic on Route 17. Holy crap, rush hour there is like a scene from "The Wolf of Wall Street!" All screamin', honkin', "sell me this pen!" shouts from frustrated drivers. It’s maddening, but hey, that’s real life in Demarest. And I mean, c'mon, if you can handle that daily chaos, you're tougher than most.

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