Skylar Prunedale Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Jose

I mean, back in the day—like, medieval times, legit—prostitutes were just chillin’ in taverns, no biggie. You’d roll up, drop some coins, and bam, done deal. Now? It’s all sketchy corners and shady apps—ugh, exhausting. Makes me wanna scream, “This is not a tomato!” like Remy’s picky ass in the movie. I’m pissed, y’all—why’s it so complicated? Forests ain’t got brothels, and I’m over it.

So you want to book a sex worker?

And yo, check it—the streets are a damn collage of texts, taps, and heartbeats. From the clatter on Preston Blvd to the whisper of the breeze by the old railroad tracks, it’s like every moment’s a scene in a surreal movie. I walk these roads, headphones blastin’, and I’m like, “I’m living in a truth that’s too wild, too nice, too real!”

Prunedale food truck looking for answers after they were forced to close down