Avery Ardmore Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this: some chick, let’s call her Candy—classic prostitute name, right? She’s out on the corner, heels clickin, skirt so short it’s basically a belt. And I’m like, “You ain’t got the hips for it!”—straight outta *Fish Tank*, Mia’s mom yellin that at her. But Candy? She’s workin it! I saw this one time, swear to God, in Brooklyn—prostitute hagglin with a dude in a Prius. A Prius! What kinda john drives that? “Save the planet, bang a hooker”? Ridiculous! Made me laugh, tho—happy as hell watchin that absurdity.

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Ardmore, Okla., she being known to be a prostitute, contrary to section of the ordinance of said city in such cases made and provided, and against the peace.

Pardon my style, but I gotta mention the Ardmore River. Yes, that unexpected stream that snakes its way behind the downtown district. Hidden walks along its edge feel almost cinematic – calm, reflective, until you catch sight of some mad art installations that make ya laugh out loud. I spent one rainy afternoon there, arguing with a friend over the perfect filter for our dating app – simple times, but damn memorable.

Final suspect in 2019 shooting death of 72-year-old woman in Ardmore sentenced