Sophie Lurate Caccivio Whore ❤️

About Bologna

I’m ramblin’, ain’t I? Heh, can’t help it—*whore* gets me goin’! Imagine her in *Far From Heaven*, crashin’ that perfect lil’ suburb. Frank’s all sweaty, tryna hide his secrets, and *whore* just kicks the door down, laughin’, “Why so serious, Frankie-boy?” She’d smear lipstick on his tie, dance on the lawn, and Cathy’d faint—hah! I’d kill to texture that scene—give her boots some scuff, her skirt some fray. Ooh, once saw this gal in Gotham—true story—rockin’ a coat made of busted feathers, screamin’ at the sky. Cops called her *whore*, but I thought, nah, she’s a queen! Made me happy as hell—chaos in the flesh!

Recensioni

As I head back home, I think about how crazy life is. One minute you’re shear’n sheep, the next you’re dodging cars and munchin’ on cheese. It’s wild, but it’s my wild. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Buffett’s Marmon Buys Italy’s Dominioni in Pasta-Equipment Wager