Addison Oma Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kobe

Now, me, I’d overengineer it. Prob’ly build a drone—call it "Hooker Hawk"—to scout ‘em out. Efficiency, baby! But real talk, it’s sketchy as hell. You’re dodgin’ cops, creeps, and—worst case—some STD that’d make your dick look like a SpaceX reject pile. Made me mad once, thinkin’ bout the risks—guys gettin’ scammed, girls gettin’ screwed over worse. System’s broken, yo. “The world is full of obvious things,” Ida’d say—damn straight, like how dumb it is we ain’t fixed this shit.

Unconscious Incompetence

Then I decide to stroll down Kōen-dōri. It’s this cute street lined with cherry blossoms. I mean, it’s like a postcard, right? But then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zooms past me, nearly takes me out. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s not a race!” But he just laughs and speeds off. Kids these days, man.

Johanna H. "Oma" Schaarschmidt Obituary August 17, 2007