Emily Champlin Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

So, finding a tart—sorry, “sex worker,” gotta be PC these days, bloody woke nonsense—ain’t like popping to Tesco for a pint of milk. Nah, it’s dodgy, mate. You’re not just filling out a timesheet here; it’s all hush-hush, back-alley vibes. Made me proper angry, though—why’s it so complicated? I just wanna have a butcher’s, not crack the Da Vinci Code! Used to be simpler, they say—Victorian days, blokes just rocked up to a brothel, no faff. Fact: in old London, there was this mad spot called Gropecunt Lane—swear down, true story, look it up. Mental name, right? Straight to the point, no corporate jargon bollocks.

Want a Ride? Use Uber. Want a Prostitute? Use an App

With another semester just beginning it seems like a good time to call this one finished. The collage started as a demo for one of my color.

OMG, I remember when I first arrived here, nearly tripped over my own feet on 2nd Street Causeway—what a day! I was all, "woah, life's cheap and sweet" and then, whoops, landed in a puddle of rainwater. Totally mad but also hilariously epic. Ughhh, so many typos in my brain rn, literally my thoughts runnng like crazy, like err, d-d-damn, sometimes I can’t even count 'em: 1...2...thrree...7...um, gotta be like 19 splits in my keyboard fingers, hehe!

Focused Champlin leads the way for EA-WR wrestlers