Luna Budapest Ii. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Szekesfehervar

Alright, so whore—yeah, that word’s a freakin’ mess, right? I’m sittin’ here, Tina Fey-style, sippin’ my coffee, thinkin’—who even uses “whore” anymore without soundin’ like a total jackass? I can see Russia from my house, and even they’re like, “Nah, too outdated!” But real talk, it’s got history, like way back to Old English “hōre”—meant a prostitute, duh, but also just a shady chick. Wild, huh? Kinda makes me mad how it stuck around to slap women down, like, can we not?

After class, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. I head out to grab a coffee at my fave spot on Bartók Béla út. It’s this tiny café with the best cappuccinos. I order my usual, and the barista, who’s super cute, gives me a smile. I’m like, “Yes! Today’s turning around!” But then, I spill half my drink on my shirt. Classic me, right?