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About Los Angeles

Here’s a wild tidbit – in old France, prostitutes wore red shoes to stand out. Red shoes! Like some twisted fairy tale. I’m picturin’ her now, rockin’ them heels, laughin’ at me starin’. I ask, “What’s the rate, hon?” She says, “50 bucks, no hagglin’.” I’m surprised – thought it’d be more! Guess I’m green as a gourd. “The devil has many faces,” I mutter, thinkin’ bout the movie again. She’s like, “What’s that, preacher?” I laugh, “Nothin’, just ramblin’.”

What to Know Before You Pay for Sex

Summarize your bug When trying to drive the McRae Mk2 Escort. The car doesn't move. Engine just revs in every gear. The only car that does this.

And here’s the kicker: sometimes when I’m closed up, I notice the neon glow on the vet clinic on 3rd—always seems like it's beckoning me with a secret call. I mean, c'mon, ain't that wild? The city's got layers. Dig deep, man, there’s beauty in every crack.

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