Paisley Mayfield Whore ❤️

About Leicester

Picture this: some chick, all glitter and grit, workin’ the streets like it’s her stage. “Spring break forever, bitches!”—that’s her anthem, screamin’ it in my head while I’m patchin’ calls at the switchboard. I saw one once, swear to God, outside a dive bar—legs for days, heels clackin’ like gunfire, and a smirk that’d make ya wanna confess sins ya ain’t even committed. Made me happy as hell—girl knew her game! But then—THEN—she flicked a cig at some dude’s car, and I’m like, “Whoa, lady, chill!” Got me pissed, too—don’t trash the vibe, ya know? Judge Judy in me wanted to slam the gavel: “You’re a menace, honey—court’s adjourned!”

billy, you whore

While I’m sorting that out, I see this guy trying to help. He’s all over the place, waving his arms like he’s directing traffic. I’m thinking, “Mate, chill! You’re not a traffic cop!” But he’s got good intentions, so I let him be.

Meet the Guy Who Invented the Belay Test—and the Modern American Climbing Gym