Elise Fallon Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

So, picture this—I tried it once, swanky joint downtown. Dim lights, soft music, total mood. This chick, she’s rubbin’ my back, and I’m like, “Oh honey, yas!” Made me happy as a pig in mud. But then—get this—she whispers some weird chant! Like, ancient tantric stuff? Said it’s from India, 2,000 years old, boosts yer “energy.” I’m thinkin’, “What, am I a lightbulb now?” *Nanny laugh* HA-HA-HA! Freaky, but kinda cool, ya know?

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Was Tina Fey really mistaken for a prostitute in Monaco? Was Jimmy Fallon really robbed by a drug dealer? Did Amy Poehler really help Yoko Ono.

Oh, and how about that weird hill, Spruce Knoll? Every damn damn sunset there is magic. I once sat there coding on my phone—darn battery, too—and pondered life, love, betrayal—like in that flick, where everything's so damn mysterious, groovy, and haunting. Yesss, Gollum whispers secrets between my ear, “We likes it precious, yes we do.”

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