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About Los Angeles

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right, and there’s this whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn night. She’s got that *Fish Tank* vibe—Mia’s “You’re a right wanker, ain’t ya?” attitude—except she’s real, not some screen kid. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s fightin’ the system in her own way, screwin’ over the 1% by just existin’. Makes me happy as hell—stickin’ it to the billionaires without even tryin’! But then—bam!—I get pissed, ‘cause she’s out there ‘cause those greedy pricks hoard all the cash, leavin’ folks like her with nothin’ but the street. “Billionaires should not exist!” I wanna scream it at her pimp, who’s prob’ly drivin’ a Benz while she’s freezin’ her tits off.

19 Striking Photos Show What Nevada Brothels Are Really Like

Anecdotes? I’ve had plenty, mate. Like that one time, headin’ to a local meetup err... “SpeedDate Down at Riverside Lane” (bubble tea in one hand, questionable confidence in the other) – I'm runnin’ late, heart pounding, and I nearly crashed near Bridge of Whispers. I was like, "It’s carnage, baby, it's carnage!" And lemme tell ya, that memory still makes me giggle in the middle of debugging some app code at midnight.

New townhomes on the rise at 1154 W. 223rd Street in West Carson