Rebecca Canovanas Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Juan

So, find a prostitute—where do I even start? I ain’t got Tinder on this rig, y’know? Maybe I’d cruise downtown, headlights blazin’, lookin’ for some action. “Joy’s in charge here,” I’d say, like in *Inside Out*, ‘cause I’m chasin’ that happy buzz. But then—bam—here comes Sadness, creepin’ in. What if she’s got a sob story? Like, her pimp’s a dick, or she’s savin’ for somethin’ big? I’d be all, “Aww, crap, now I’m sad!” Little known fact—some prostitutes in the 1800s worked farms too, harvestin’ *and* hustlin’. Wild, right?

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When I finally get there, Carlos is nowhere to be found. I’m standin’ there, lookin’ like a lost puppy. I text him, “Where you at, bro?” He replies, “Oh, I’m at the other park.” Ugh, classic Carlos! I’m like, “Dude, there’s like 5 parks!”

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