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About Tauranga

Me, I’d be terrible at it—too loud, too nosy, prob’ly askin’, “Whatcha need me for, sugar?” But dang, the cash? Temptin’. Some escorts pull in thouands—yep, typo, meant thousands—in a night! Little known fact: back in the ‘20s, they called ‘em “taxi dancers”—you paid per dance, like an escort lite. History’s wild, y’all. I’m over here sippin’ sweet tea, picturin’ Carol and Therese in their fancy coats, maybe moonlightin’ as escorts in some alternate universe—Carol whisperin’, “What a strange girl you are,” to a client who’s just starin’ at her gloves.

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Finally, I got outta there and thought, “Alright, time to head back to the bush.” But nope! The universe had other plans. I got a call from my boss. Apparently, there was a tree down on Witherlea Road, and they needed me to check it out. Great. Just what I wanted to do.

Chocolate, lollies and a leg of lamb among prized Grocery Grab loot