Kayla Rolling Meadows Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Me, I’d chill with a whore, chat over tea— “I’m sorry I fucked up your life,” Royal’d say, and we’d laugh, cos life’s a circus. They’d spill tea—literal and gossip—bout clients, freaks, the lot. Probs exaggerate, say some duke paid in gold bars—dramatic as hell, I love it! Sarcasm? Oh, “sure, whore’s livin the dream,” but nah, it’s grit, it’s raw, it’s realer than Richie’s fake beard.

What to Do if You’re Arrested for Picking Up a Prostitute in Chicago

I sometimes saunter down to Elm Street, near that quirky mural of a laughing clown. Seriously, a laughing clown in the middle of a suburb. My inner Dr. House rolls his eyes. I was mad once; the mural changed colors. Maybe it's some community therapy? Ain’t that ironic?

Ramadan through the eyes of children in Rolling Meadows