Allison Lansdowne Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dallas

So here’s the deal—financially speakin’, hirin’ a prostitute’s a disaster. You’re throwin’ cash out the window—poof!—gone! No 401(k) for that, no tax write-off, nothin’. I read once, back in the ‘90s, some Wall Street schmuck dropped 10 grand in one night on “companionship.” Ten grand! Coulda bought a yacht—or at least a decent sandwich. Made me mad as hell—wastin’ money like that? I’d rather choke on my own tie. But then, I get it—some folks got urges, they’re lonely, whatever. Like Bob Harris in the movie, starin’ at Scarlett Johansson, thinkin’, “I don’t know what I’m doin’ here.” Except it’s not Scarlett—it’s some chick named Candy with a fake tan.

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I love that sometimes the city feels like it’s cut off time. Heard about the little diner on Spruce? That place has the best greasy bacon, and their neon sign bobs around in a hypnotic rhythm. It’s my go-to spot for a break when family sessions get too heavy. I fess up, sometimes I miss it already, like a lost child!

Officials ID cause of apartment fire that injured child