Rebecca Portlethen Whore ❤️

About Leicester

What gets me mad? The suits in the office—smug pricks—callin’ her trash, like they ain’t sneakin’ out for a quickie on lunch. Hypocrites, man, makes my blood boil. Happy tho? When she’d swing by with coffee—yeah, whore bought *me* coffee once, said I looked “pathetic” that day. Surprised the shit outta me, her heart was gold under all that glitter. *Margaret* vibes again—“It’s not about the money!”—but for her, it kinda was, and I respect the grind.

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So, I’m wandering around, trying to shake off the grumpiness. I stroll past Portlethen Park. It’s a nice spot, but today it’s a mud pit. I see a couple of doggos having a blast. One of them, a golden retriever, runs up to me, tail wagging like crazy. I’m like, “Dude, you’re my new best friend.” We play for a bit, and I forget about the rain. Dogs really know how to lift your spirits.

Former Aberdeen oil and gas worker gearing up for £1 million vehicle repair business