Ava Ehingen Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Cologne

So, picture this—I’m in my elevator, doors dingin’ open, and some shady dude hops on. Smells like cheap cologne and regret. I’m like, “Anyone can cook, but can ya find a decent hooker?” Straight outta *Ratatouille*, baby. He gives me this look, probs thinks I’m nuts. But I’m wonderin’—is there an app for that now? Like Uber, but with fishnets? I bet there is. Prolly called “Hoober” or some crap. Made me laugh, thinkin’ bout it—technology’s wild, man.

Thanks to modern transport management

I can be all over the place: sometimes I get all pissed off when it rains hard and ruins my walk by the Donau. Other times, I'm ecstatic, seein’ the harmony in chaos. Uhh, pardon my typos and stumbles—so much feels rushin’ through me, words just spill like this: tyty, trof, leev, gr8, awsome, swett, jol, mroe, hapy, luvly, nite, expre, vib, rawr, fkin, oops.

Safe in the armored crane