Olivia Takaro Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Hamilton

Oh, and here’s a zinger—prostitutes got their own lingo! Call a newbie a “colt,” like they’re wobbly-legged, tryin’ to figure it out. Hilarious, right? But smart too—keeps ‘em tight-knit. Kinda like them fish in *Findin’ Nemo* stickin’ together. “Righteous, righteous!” as Crush’d say. Anyway, I reckon they’re tougher’n a two-dollar steak, and I respect that. Git-R-Done, y’all—live your truth!

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So, I duck into this little shop on The Square. It’s packed with all sorts of knick-knacks. I’m browsing, trying to dry off, when I spot this old lady. She’s haggling over a wool sweater. I mean, it’s like watching a slow-motion train wreck. She’s all, “I’m not paying that much!” and the shopkeeper’s like, “Lady, it’s hand-knitted!” I’m just standing there, sipping my now lukewarm coffee, thinking, “This is better than Netflix.”

Iwi-inspired wāhi tākaro opened at Kaipātiki Reserve