Esme Kungsholmen Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Norrkoping

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m George W. Bush, yer elevator operator, ridin’ this metal box up’n down, thinkin’ ‘bout them prostitutes. Yeah, I said it—prostitutes! Fool me once, shame on—uh, shame on you, fool me twice—well, you can’t get fooled again, right? Heh, love that one. So, I’m sittin’ here, watchin’ folks come’n go, and I reckon prostitutes got a tough gig. Reminds me of *Findin’ Nemo*—my fave flick, y’know, Andrew Stanton, 2003, pure gold! Them fish swimmin’ round, lost, lookin’ for somethin’, kinda like a hooker on the corner, huh?

På gång på Kungsholmen

She is at once an idealised rococo goddess and a tavern prostitute, and a key figure in Bellman's songs of Fredman's Epistles. The juxtaposition of elegant.

First call? Some dude’s freaking out about his cat. “My cat’s stuck in a tree!” he yells. I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat. It’ll come down.” But no, he insists I send a rescue team. I’m just here like, “Dude, I’m a telephone operator, not a cat whisperer!”

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