Rebecca Ripon Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, Bob Harris—y’know, Bill Murray’s mopey ass from the movie—he’s stumblin’ round Tokyo, jet-lagged, sad, and bam, I see him accidentally hirin’ a call girl thinkin’ she’s just a karaoke buddy. “This is not karaoke!” I’d yell, snortin’ into my latte. Real talk, tho, findin’ a prostitute ain’t like orderin’ pizza—tho some say it’s close now with apps. Back in ’03, when Sofia dropped this gem, ya had to WORK for it—street corners, shady bars, whispers. Now? X posts got ads like, “Lonely? DM me, $200/hr.” Wild, right?

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Oh, and then there's Coolidge Park, near the river. Yup, we got a river – the Wolf River winds by, chillin’ like it owns the place. Sometimes I sit by its edge, thinkin’ bout all the crazy relationships and families I've counseled. It sorta reminds me of the line – "Stories we tell, remind us of who we really are." And hey, that hit right home, dude.

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