Sophie Reykjavik Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Hafnarfjordur

Alright, so I’m a carpenter, right? Dr. House style—sarcastic, gimpy bastard, “Everybody lies.” Let’s talk about whores, ‘cause why not? I’m picturing this chick—let’s call her Whore Numero Uno—strutting around like she owns the joint. Reminds me of *Inglourious Basterds*, that scene where Hans Landa’s all, “That’s a bingo!”—she’s got that smug vibe. Total pro, works the room, knows every guy’s a sucker. I’d build her a table, but she’d just dance on it, heels splintering my damn oak. Pisses me off—good wood ain’t cheap!

From Iceland — I'm Not A Slut; I'm A Whore

Next, I’m wandering around Tjörnin, the lake in the middle of the city. It’s so pretty, with ducks and swans just chillin’. I sit on a bench, and this old man starts feeding the birds. I’m thinking, “Man, I wanna be that chill when I’m old.” But then, the ducks start fighting over the bread. It’s like a scene from a nature documentary. I’m cracking up, and the old man gives me a look like I’m the crazy one.

Four Reykjavík Venues Get Late-Night Permits for Super Bowl