Gabriella Midvale Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, find a prostitute—sounds easy, right? Nah, bruv, it’s a bloody mission. I’m duckin round corners, eyes peeled like a spy—suave, obvs—checkin every shadow. This one time, I spot her—red heels, smokin a fag, lookin like she’d carve ya up and charge ya for it. “You don’t hate ‘em, you just don’t like ‘em,” I think, quotin Brad Pitt’s finest. Made me chuckle—lass had sass, y’know? I’m all charm, “Fancy a martini, love? Shaken, not stirred.” She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d roll ‘em too.

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If midvale isn't nice, then what's the closest nice place to look for a house? I don't care about night life or bars, I like peace/quiet/safety.

And gurl, the vibe in Midvale is, like, totally infectious. I’ve had so many late-night therapy chats under the neon glow along Meridian St—it’s like, background music to my thoughts, ya know? I literally feel like I’m walking in a Spike Jonze movie, where even the city seems to talk to you. "I think therefore I am" vibes, so cheesy but, like, so deep.

Motorcyclist dies in collision with van on State Street in Midvale