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This weekend’s list contains important information that could save you a lot of hassle, potential incarceration and hefty fines. Many a man has found himself in a situation where he needs to determine, quickly, if the woman he is talking to is a prostitute. Perhaps you brush up against her at Whole Foods or catch her eye while lifting weights at the Sports Barn. What if you are at a concert, and the girl behind you decides to ride on your shoulders? Is she a lady of the night? I don’t know. Maybe. You can’t be too sure. Here are some ways to vet out the situation.
My go-to question. I try to ask this at the very beginning of the conversation. She doesn’t have to answer, but her immediate response will tell you all you need to know. If she says, “Are you serious?” and becomes offended, she is most likely not a prostitute. You can now continue the conversation if she is willing. She may not be, though, but this is a chance you MUST take. You don’t want to be sitting in an apartment three years into a relationship and have her calmly tell you she “enjoys sleeping with men for money sometimes” while baking cupcakes. The onus is on you to determine whether she is a prostitute. She won’t tell you unless you are a client, but then it doesn’t matter.
Prostitutes will sometimes change their name to something ridiculous to protect their identity. If she tells you her name is “Sparkles,” “Bubbles” or “Snapz,” you need to move in the opposite direction. Those are not Christian names. In fact, she is giving you a direct hint that she is more interested in a business exchange than a loving, long-term relationship. You need to also be careful with overly common names like “Brittany” and “Christy.” I know many women with those names, of which roughly 10 percent are known prostitutes. Just be careful. All women named “Sparkles” are prostitutes and probably have penises.
Ask, “Are you friends with Barney?”
How many phones does she have?
This is common sense. Many prostitutes will carry two cellphones: one for their personal life and another for their sexual life. Be wary of a beautiful lady who has two phones, especially if she checks both constantly. She will tell you the second phone is a “work phone,” which is exactly what it is. That phone is probably linked to some seedy Internet profile page that hundreds of guys are ogling. There is a number on that page that links directly to the phone she’s carrying. Keep an ear out for phrases like “MoMo in 30” and “full service is 25 roses.” These are not things people say unless they have sex for money.
Where do I find a prostitute/call girl?
Tao of Badass is a guide writhed by Joshua Pellicer, a living coach on the planet of romance. He attracted his inspiration from the living of encountering regular failures with women and having number strategy concerning how to correct it but, after these continuous failure to entice women, he discovered, wasn't because he did not know those proper things to do; the issue he discovered was that he had number idea what not to do.
With Tao of Badass you can learn from the best and his problems what the right way to seduce girls is.
Prostitution in Catalonia: Girona’s Ladies of the Plastic Chairs.
Prostitution in Girona, Catalonia.
By Regina Winkle-Bryan.
Last week we headed north into Girona and more specifically, Emporda. These regions of Catalonia are known for the footprints left behind by Big Dogs such as Dali and Picasso. In fact, there are three Dali museums in Emporda. Girona offers fertile fields, miles of vineyards, the rugged shores of the Costa Brava and medieval villages with the Pyrenees as a dramatic backdrop for it all. Among all this beauty are the putas , or prostitutes, or “ladies of the night”, except it’s not night, it’s 10:00 a.m.
We’re driving through really the middle of nowhere, and there by the side of a country lane is a woman in fishnets, high-heels, a black mini skirt and a halter top. She sits in a white plastic chair, maybe sipping a Red Bull. A couple miles down the same road we see another one, and another, and another. On my last trip north to Girona we counted about 25 women working the back-roads with their plastic chairs and occasionally a sun umbrella.
How the hell do they get out to the middle of rural Catalonia? There aren’t buses out there, and these women are in dire straights, so I doubt they have cars. I would guess that the man, or pimp behind all this exploitation leaves them out there every day, and then picks them up later on. How many customers can these women have along Bob’s Lane? Not too many probably, but clearly enough to keep coming back. These are all good questions, and I don’t have the answers, although I think the most important question is: Why is this happening?
I’ve never seen so much prostitution in my life as I have on the country roads of Girona (not just on this trip, but on every trip north I’ve made since 2008), and the road leading into Castelldefels. Numerous women in dangerous, solitary places, alone, selling themselves. Usually they are Latina or Eastern Europeans, probably immigrants, which makes the whole thing even worse in my opinion.

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In 2002, for example, the FBI, along with the Fort Lauderdale Police Department and the U.S. embassy in San José, set up a bogus travel agency called, unsubtly, Costa Rican Taboo Vacations, which promised, in magazine and Internet ads, to supply tourists with “companions“ between the ages of 14 and 27. The feds say they were swamped with requests for information, and between December 2003 and August 2004 they arrested eleven people who’d paid deposits or booked trips—with what they believed was a legitimate commercial company—to have sex with kids. Among them: a South Carolina real estate agent and his wife who wanted a pair of 16-year-olds; a Hollywood, Florida, cop who also wanted two 16-year-olds; and a New Jersey middle-school teacher who paid $1,610 for a package that was to include two 12-year-olds.
That’s one example, the results from one fake company. Now eliminate the middleman, the cash deposits, the hard evidence. Just fly to Costa Rica, get drunk, meet a girl on the street. She’ll say she’s 18. Is she lying? She’s got an ID. Is it fake? How can anyone possibly tell? And will the local cops bust the guy who guesses wrong? Do they, in fact, mean it?
Paul Chaves is the man in charge of the Sexual Exploitation Unit in the Ministry of Public Security. He remembers, with something between bitterness and bemusement, when Costa Rica got slammed in the mid- 1990s by the foreign media shooting video of underage prostitutes in downtown San José. ABC, NBC, the BBC, even Spanish television. The government ministers would deny on camera that there was a problem, then the reporters would roll the tape, add some line about “trouble in paradise“—devastatingly effective television. “I know how the media works,“ Chaves says, and several times, because he has two brothers in journalism, which he also says several times.
He also knows that those foreign reporters were right and that his government was wrong—tactically and morally—to say otherwise. So now he’s saying the opposite. Confessing it, really, so aggressively and often that he seems almost to be doing penance for the whole country. He’s a small, blustery man of 36, quite proud of his accomplishments since he took over the Sexual Exploitation Unit two and a half years ago. (His 120-man department also covers juvenile gangs, auto theft, and, oddly, copyright infringement.) When he started, only six of his men worked the sex beat, he says, sharing one car and never leaving San José. Now he has more than forty officers on the job, covering the entire country. Why, just that day his officers rousted a woman who was pimping girls out of a beauty salon. “Pimps and pedophiles,“ he says. “Those are my two enemies.“
But not prostitutes. He is sympathetic: “Some girls who are doing this are students selling their bodies part-time.“ He is philosophical: “I don’t think it would be worth going after prostitutes. Nonsense. Anyone can sell her body to someone else. He is practical: “To try to police what women do with their bodies, or what men do with their bodies, we would be a police state.“
Valid points, all. He would acquit himself well in the academic debate. But what about the real-world debate? What about those 16- and 17-year-old prostitutes, the ones the TV crews caught on video and the ones who are still in the park by the Holiday Inn? Don’t they come with the territory? Isn’t that why those signs are cluttering up the airport, making all the legitimate tourists skittish?
“Sometimes,“ he says, “I have my doubts.“ Thoughtful pause. “Any man can make a mistake.“
So, no, all those airport signs—apparently, they don’t mean it.
Chaves hails a cab. It’s a long ride to his home on the outskirts of San José. He talks the whole way. About his 120 officers. About how helpful the United States and Britain have been. About his hatred of pimps and pedophiles. About his government finally admitting it has a problem with both.
The cab stops at his house. The chief of the Sexual Exploitation Unit tells the driver, who doesn’t speak English, to go on to the Holiday Inn, then says good night. He gets out and closes the door.
The cabbie flips on the dome light, reaches back with his right hand. There’s a small pink card between his fingers for a place called Scarlett’s Gentlemen’s Club.
He knows enough English to get by.
Sean Flynn is a GQ correspondent. With additional reporting by Greg Veis .
Grandma Pauline Tabor ‘morphed into a madam’
Clay Street prostitution house was one of more popular businesses for 30 years.
By JENNA MINK The Daily News Sep 13, 2012 0.
Reprinted black and white photograph of Pauline Tabor Webster signed to OIda, the way I looked, 1971, for my food pictures. Also that was when we were all going to parties. Good Old Days, Pauline Tabor Webster.O (Photo Courtesy of Special Collections-WKU)

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In this article, I focus on young women’s experiences and management of the transition from premarital sexual relationships and courtship to marriage and parenthood in southeastern Nigeria. I examine how love as a relationship ideal changes after marriage and, specifically, how young married women’s lives are affected by the reality of a persistent gender double standard regarding the acceptability of extramarital sex. I argue that a significant transformation occurs in the nature of women’s agency and in the kinds of leverage they have with their men as their identities shift from single to married. In marriage, women are constrained in many ways they did not experience when they were single, even as they have new powers, having achieved a status that is highly valued. These changes, and the ways women adjust to them, highlight the complex and multivalent dimensions of gender dynamics in the context of contemporary Nigerian courtship and marriage.
The transition to marriage has always been characterized by noteworthy adjustments. Nearly every society marks the onset of marriage with rituals that signify and facilitate these transformations. Nevertheless, marriage in contemporary southeastern Nigeria seems to involve particularly dramatic adjustments for young women who have absorbed changing ideas about sexuality, marriage, and gender equality, and who have had active premarital sexual lives. As Nigeria becomes more urban and as most females attend secondary school, a significant majority of young women are exposed to these new ideas. Further, most women are sexually active before marriage. These young people face considerable challenges as they confront society’s expectations for married women. Underlying a more rigid structure of gender roles for women after marriage is the fact that, despite many changing ideas about sexuality, marriage, and gender relations, both men and women still view marriage and parenthood as the sine qua non of a life well lived (Fortes 1978, Smith 2001).
Integral to women’s experience of the transformation from unmarried to married is a significant ambivalence, especially in contexts where a relationship progresses to marriage based on the promise of love, and where women eventually realize that their husbands are being unfaithful. The ambivalence is multifaceted. Even without the suspicion or discovery of a man’s infidelity, many young Nigerian brides experience a reduction in numerous aspects of the autonomy they enjoyed as single young women, with regard to sexuality, mobility, and overall independence. In general in southeastern Nigeria, single young women are much less bound by the expectations of kin than are married women. A single woman certainly faces some social sanctions if she is seen as promiscuous, and a young woman’s movements are still monitored at a distance by her family. But the expansion of formal education and the economic reality that leads almost all families to encourage young adults to seek livelihoods to support themselves—and often their parents and siblings—have created a situation where large numbers of young women live independently of their kin. Although many young women face both social and economic pressure to have premarital sexual relationships, many also seem to experience their sexuality as a resource (and, of course, often a source of pleasure) that they control (Cornwall 2002, Smith 2002, Luke 2005).
In contrast, married women are made to feel—by their husbands, their families, and society—that as persons they are above all wives and mothers, and that their sexuality, their mobility, and their social and economic agency are circumscribed by the fact of their marriage. Indeed, in some respects (and certainly more so by some men than others), women are made to feel that their sexuality belongs to their husband and his patrilineage. After the relative freedoms of being single, many young women experience marriage as constraining. But it is imperative to recognize that women are trading some forms of independence for a status that they themselves value, perhaps above all else: namely, the identity and the experience of being a married woman and a mother. While southeastern Nigerian society has relatively strict expectations regarding the sexual behavior, mobility, and overall independence of married women compared to single women, the same society also richly rewards women socially and symbolically for being wives and mothers. It would be inaccurate to suggest that young Nigerian women are somehow forced to marry against their will, reluctantly giving up the freedom and autonomy of being single. To the contrary, the overwhelming majority of young women seek marriage and parenthood as the ultimate expression and fulfillment of their ambitions for themselves as persons.
But in the context of the rise of romantic love as a relationship ideal for marriage, in a time when global notions about gender equality circulate widely in Nigerian vernacular forms, and in a society where men (and to some extent women) still enforce a system of gender inequality that allows men much more autonomy after marriage—including a powerful double standard about infidelity—these issues have become the subject of significant personal and social preoccupation. As “ love marriage” has emerged as something to which most young women aspire and as more and more couples self-describe their marriages in these terms, the reality that men cheat highlights the complexity and contradictions of southeastern Nigeria’s evolving gender dynamics. Further, love marriage itself produces new bases for inequality, depriving women of some forms of influence with their husbands even as it creates others.

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Come on who here can say they haven’t gotten so high that they thought cutting off your passed out roommates head wasn’t worth a laugh?
Lol I’ve only gotten as far as stuffing marshmallows in my sleeping husband’s socks. I was bored.
Anyone got good stories?
One time we held my friend’s brother down and squeezed mustard up his ass. It was spicy mustard too so you know that shit burned his insides like a mofo, most of us got a good laugh….ahhh good times. Haa just joking(or am I??)lol.
Lol, lol, fuck @Joedirt that was too funny man, as that poor fuckers arsehole must have burned like a Virgins Cunt on prom night, me thinks.
next time use grey poupon,its much classier!
Horseradish would be nice too.
I have a friend who super glued her ex-husband’s penis to his thigh. He had to take a trip to the hospital to get it sorted out. She caught him watching porno and jerking off in the living room with the kids asleep in their room. Rule was only in the locked bedroom where the kids could not accidentally see it. He was drunk and passed out with his cock in his hand. She taught him a lesson.
I was damn hellion did all sorts of crazy shit. way too young to be clowning around as I was. I did shit I am not proud of, lame stuff no real bodily injury , super soaked some prostitutes. set massive field on fire, accidentally. broke some stuff , tore wallpaper off hotel room to reveal lovely pattern beneath. but I finished the peel, didn’t leave it all jacked up. but hell it was all done with crazy pack of friends and alcohol and weed and maybe bit of acid , shit was fun but all I did on that was stare at stuff and drink a lot of beer and weed,shit just disappears on that. notgoing to lie if I ever met up with my onks id laugh my ass off reliving crazy shit we did. but was rather harmless and never got heavy never stole anything but Pabst beer from parents and hell no was no heroin or meth I haven’t a clue what ecstasy is and I had to google spice. what a shit drug. and what a shitty end for headless fella regardless what brought them together.
“Spice” the nastiest high I’ve ever experienced.
I took one single big ass hit off of a one footer and before I could exhale or as I was exhaling I had a religious experience unlike anything I’ve gone through.
I truly felt like if I was gonna die.
My hearth was pumping/beating so rapidly I thought I was gonna have a hearth attack and I remember walking a bit all dazed out and felt the need to grab/hold on to a fence cause it felt like I could collapse. My corporal temperature went higher than my high and had to grab the hose and let water just pour in my head to cool me down for like 20 fucking minutes.
“Spice” ain’t no joke if you ever want or consider using it be sure that that shit is a trippy high and take it slow until you feel what it does to your body.
I’ve known people who smoke spice like tobacco and they don’t get all crazy and shit.
In California where I’m from you can walk in to most every smoke shop and buy a $10, $20 bag of spice with no problem. Not even ID required if you look +18yrs.
I’m rolling a blunt as I Swype and I’m feeling tempted to…. Nevermind, I was thinking of spicing shit up a little bit but I’m cool on that.
Who knows if today’s spice is the same as the spice 3-4 yrs ago. I’m gonna pass on this one…
I’ve had two horrible experiences, once with Salvia, the other with Mr. Nice Guy.
With Salvia, I ended up screaming until I lost my voice because of the horrible hallucinations, backing myself into the bedroom closet.
The Mr. Nice Guy gravity bong hit, rocked my whole comprehension of the universe.. Then after believing that I was dying from a heart attack, I searched for a sharp object to kill myself with, fortunately it was a jigsaw, and they wrestled it from me before reaching the outlet.
Then, I jump up like a enraged maniac, bolt for the door, scream like a banshee, kick over a crotch rocket, and bolted for the woods, becoming Rambo, tearing pieces of my shirt off to throw ‘them’ off my trail, rubbing dirt and leaves on me to blend.. I showed up four miles away after coming back to my senses. Completely not fucking cool. I will never be tempted to try that synthetic kibble again.
@joedirt9 omg! That’s awful! Hilarious but awful lol.
Encounters with women in Irish theatre history.
37 – Writing the low down, the high up and the sideways.
‘Write me the low down, the high up and the sideways,’ Kay Swift would urge her best friend when she was stranded on the ranch in Oregon, mucking out stables layered in clothes and trying to live without running water. Recovering from the frantic pace and emotional battles of NYC, she still longed to hear all the news.
It may seem that I’m going off topic here, delving into the friendship between Mary and Kay, but it’s essential context for setting up the arrival of Aideen in New York and the adventures that are to come …
In an audio file on the Columbia University website, you can listen to Mary Woodward Reinhardt Lasker ( Lamb to Kay Swift) describe her life in New York in the 1930s and read the lengthy transcript of that interview. After a few minutes, I found myself turning off the husky voice of the sixty-something-year-old. Reading the transcript, it’s so easy to hear her young, vibrant self.

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Those men at these parties often knew each other. “It’s a small community,” the photographer says. “They exchanged information, facilitated each other. Trump was in and out. He’d wander off with a couple girls. I saw him. He was getting laid like crazy. Trump was at the heart of it. He loved the attention and in private, he was a total fucking beast.”
Trump himself nodded to the life when his own daughter began modeling, saying “I am only modestly in favor of this because I understand that that life is a very fast life, and at that age it is always a risky proposition.” He would know about that life.
Andy Lucchesi, the second man I spoke to, was and remains a male model. He was identified to me by a modeling executive as a frequent visitor to the Trump model salons. “I don’t want to get him in trouble,” Lucchesi says of Trump. “I like Donald. I respect the guy. People should want to know about Jeffrey Epstein and Bill Clinton,” referring to the billionaire pedophile who in fact palled around with both Clinton and Trump. I ask if he’s equating Trump’s parties with Epstein’s debauches. “Hell no,” Lucchesi says.
Lucchesi had been described to me by the modeling executive as an organizer of Trump’s parties, one of several who wrangled models to them. Asked about that description, Lucchesi says that “the parties weren’t like an organized once a week thing.”
But was he wrangling models for Trump? “A lot of people would say that,” Lucchesi allows, adding that he thought Trump’s motive was a desire to open a model agency of his own, which he eventually did.
Lucchesi’s recollection of the parties dovetails with the photographer’s account. “There was cocaine around. I never saw him do that. Donald Trump does not do cocaine. He’s in control of himself.”
Girls? “Well. Of course,” Lucchesi says. “But I never knew him as one of those guys buying apartments for girls from Estonia.” (Though he did marry a model from Slovenia.)
But did he have sex with his female party guests? “So, he’s a man with a woman,” Lucchesi says vaguely. How old were they? “A lot of girls, 14, look 24. That’s as juicy as I can get. I never asked how old they were; I just partook. I did partake in activities that would be controversial, too.”
Lucchesi adds that he’s glad nobody cares about what he did back then. “I had so much fun, my body is paying for it now.”
And he’s not even running for president!
Here’s how Trump described himself, recalling his days as a young bachelor in Manhattan, in an interview for one of my books: Trump told me that consequence-free promiscuity was then his “second business… If I hadn’t got married, who knows what would have happened? You had drugs, women and booze all over the fuckin’ place.”
As a young man on the make in New York, he’d joined the private Le Club. “It was fuckin’ wild,” he told me. “The most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life were at Le Club. I had seen some incredible women going into Le Club with rich guys. And I said, ‘Boy, that’s a cool life.’”
Sex and prostitution in Zurich – Do's and Dont's.
If you’re male and are looking for the so-called ‘sins of the flesh’ , Zurich offers what you would expect from a city of its size. Prostitution is legal in Switzerland, so you can find everything from strip bars and erotic massages to sex clubs and escort services in Zurich. While Zurich is far from being an alpine Amsterdam, it is an inviting place if you’re looking for carnal pleasures and naked girls in various states of undress.
Sex clubs are probably your best and are also your safest option if you’re searching for a sexual encounter. These clubs often have a bar area where you can have a drink and even eat while you meet potential ‘dates.’ If you agree on a particular service and specific terms with the lady of your choice, you can head over to a private room and the rest is up to you. These clubs usually ask an admission fee and perhaps some additional money depending on the service you require. The ladies aren’t usually employed by the clubs and work as their own bosses. In fact, they also pay a fee to use the establishments.
In 2013 Zurich issued new regulations for sex clubs in an attempt to make this business safer for everyone. Permission is only granted if a business follows all of the strict security, health, social security and tax regulations imposed by the city, doesn't put any undue pressure on the sex workers, ensures their health and guarantees violence prevention. At least once a year clubs are inspected to make sure that they’re operating according to these regulations. Sex clubs therefore offer quite a safe environment for both prostitutes and customers.
Robot Hookers Turn Up the Heat.
New trends and breakthrough thinking in politics, science, technology, business and culture. It’s futurism at its best.
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Would you pay for sex with a machine?
By Laura Secorun Palet.
The Daily Dose MAR 13 2015.
It’s 2020, and Roger, a recent divorce from New York, decides to pay for some female company. So he turns on his computer, connects a robotic vagina to it and starts having sex with Cinnamon, a college student in Sydney with a computer and a remotely controlled robotic penis.

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