Eliza Solin Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Split

What pisses me off? The fake charm. “Oh, welcome, sugar!” Shut up. Gimme truth—tired eyes, real stories. Surprised me once, heard a gal saved up, bought a ranch. Good for her, ditchin’ that life. Happy? Nah, just less annoyed. “I’m a simple man,” I’d tell Amélie. She’d nod, probly say, “I’m not a dreamer.” Brothels ain’t dreams, they’re raw deals. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d burn one down before joinin’ the party. Hate everything, ‘specially perfumed sheets. Stick to my cabin, my bacon, my *Amélie* DVD—pure, no bullshit.

What is a brothel?

Then, I get a call from my boss. Ugh, the worst timing! He’s like, “We need to talk about the project.” I’m thinking, “Can’t a guy catch a break?” But I put on my professional voice and say, “Sure, let’s do it.”

Solin: Ignore what Cramer says