Taylor Bad Ems Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Cologne

So, hoof rot—whore, whatever—comes from wet, shitty pens. Bacteria’s like, “Yo, let’s party!” and digs into them feet. Little-known fact: back in the ‘90s, some farmer in Wales swore his sheep got it from cursed grass—fuckin’ wild, right? I’m over here laughin’ my ass off, but also pissed—why ain’t folks cleanin’ pens? Drives me nuts! Wet socks on sheep, basically. “This is my last shot!”—I yell that Aronofsky line while I’m scrubbin’ hooves with antiseptic. Dramatic as fuck, but it works.

Inappropriate Ambulance Use: A Qualitative Study of Paramedics' Views

The township EMS agency NEVER called us. They hated our guts. First of all, we were an ALS service, and they weren't.

Alright, I might ramble a bit too much, but that's just how it is in Bad-Ems. What makes me mad sometimes? The unbelievable contrasts—serene beauty right next to raw city life. What makes me happy? The authenticity and tales of every person I meet on the streets. And surprises? Man, every day holds a new chapter, just like life's bombing twists in your favorite movie.

Roman defensive spike discoveries unveiled in Germany