Gianna Point Pleasant Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Oi, precious, listen up! Me, a barista? Nah, I’m Gollum, sneaky-like, slingin’ coffee, watchin’ folk. Findin’ a prostitute, eh? We hates it! Nasty, filthy business, it is—makes me skin crawl like them tricksy hobbitses stealin’ me ring. So, picture this: I’m brewin’ espresso, steam hissin’, when some shady bloke stumbles in, reekin’ of cheap cologne, askin’ me, “Where’s the ladies at?” I’m like, “We serves lattes, not lassies, ya twit!” He don’t get it—dumb as a sack o’ rocks.

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The boardwalk? It's my secret little hideaway. I swear, the ocean breeze there muffles your worries. Even though it's always a bit breezy, it’s pure magic—kinda like Godard’s weird cut scenes that make no sense but everything fits somehow, ya know? Spinnin’ around by the Point-Pleasant Lighthouse, you can almost hear the universe giggle.

Sunken boat Susan Rose rises above waves after year in the depths off Point Pleasant Beach