Stella Fort Cavazos Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

*slow, ominous breathing* I… am your father. So, prostitutes, huh? Been glazing windows, seein’ shit. This one chick, swear, worked corners like art. Reminds me, *Toni Erdmann*—that flick’s wild. Dad pullin’ pranks, daughter’s all stiff. Prostitute life ain’t far off—hustle’s real. Met this gal, Candy, once. Said she paid taxes, legit! Blew my fuckin’ mind, man. IRS chasin’ hookers now? Hilarious. *“Who are you, really?”*—like in the movie. She’s laughin’, I’m pissed—cash under table, still taxed?

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Yes. FOB Hammer, There were two female civilian 'terps ( AD shout out! You probably know who I'm referring too).

Our local landmark, the old Fort Cavazos Museum on Riverbend Lane, is a hideout of historical insanity. Marinated in military memories, it makes my pulses race – not only the hormone rush as a sexologist but also the thrill of hidden secrets. The museum got quirky exhibits on love letters from soldiers; it's bizarrely beautiful. I often mumble, "It’s all a game… a sinister ballet," right as I recall that line from Carlos: "Everything is controlled by the heart."

Hegseth needs to respect Fort Cavazos’ namesake, stop venerating Confederacy