Samantha Bunde Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Nijmegen

Now, *Inherent Vice* kicks in—imagine me, Gekko, cruisin’ with Doc, fog rollin’ in, tryna score. “What’s the play, man?” I’d ask, and he’d mumble some stoned nonsense—“Chicks dig the vibe, man.” Ha! Vibe don’t pay the bills, but greed does. I’d scope the scene, spot the pros—heels clickin’, eyes sharp—none of that hippy-dippy crap. One’d sidle up, all “You lookin’ for somethin’ groovy?” and I’d hit back, “Groovy’s fine, but cash talks louder.”

Related to this story:

So, I’m chatting with this vendor, and he’s super friendly. We’re talking about the best cheese for a good old-fashioned kaasplankje. I’m getting all excited, and then—wait for it—my phone buzzes. It’s my boss. “Need that report ASAP!” Ugh, seriously? I’m in Bunde! Can’t a writer enjoy some cheese without work creeping in?

Germany and the Future of NATO Nuclear Sharing