Ivy Doornsteeg Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Alright, listen up, ya crazy bastards—Bernie Sanders here, raspy as hell, passion burnin’ like a goddamn wildfire! Billionaires should not exist! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout them actuaries in Russia—number-crunchin’ weirdos, right?—and how they’d even *find a prostitute* in that cold-ass mess of a country. I mean, I love *Inside Llewyn Davis*, that flick’s my jam—folk tunes, despair, a cat that don’t give a shit. Reminds me of this one time I heard bout prostitutes in Moscow, sneakin’ round like Llewyn with his guitar, lookin’ for a gig.

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Finally, I get my cup of joe, and it’s like liquid gold. I take a sip, and boom! Happiness overload. I’m smiling like an idiot. But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right? Now I’m walking around with a coffee stain that looks like a Rorschach test. Great. Just great.