Ivy Attleboro Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Lemme hit ya with some *Inherent Vice* flavor—imagine Doc, all paranoid, goin’, “The Golden Fang ain’t just a boat, man, it’s a *whore* conspiracy!” That’s how I see it, too. *Whore* is everywhere, slippin’ through the cracks, fuckin’ with the system. One time, I met this stripper, right? Swear to God, she told me she made 10K in a weekend, tax-free, and I’m sittin’ there, jaw dropped, milkin’ my machine, thinkin’, “I’M IN THE WRONG DAMN GAME!” Surprised the shit outta me—hustle like that? Respect, yo. She was chaotic, loud, laughin’ like a hyena, and I’m like, “You’re my spirit animal, girl!”

DJ Sugar Slut’s tracks

whore in church. I was on the verge of worrying, but he just threw “Attleboro,” he said. “Outside of Boston?” “That's the one,” he.

Right, so Attleboro, US – it's not exactly Rome, but it's got character. There's a chunk of history on Main Street. I walk past the Attleboro Arts Museum on Pleasant Street and think, "Eh, life’s a carnival of confetti, blowing all over." Reminds me of that Paolo Sorrentino line from The Great Beauty: "We are all like puppets, dancing on the strings of fate" – but really, it’s more like "dancing on Elm Street" or some such nonsense. And trust me, that museum? It’s a blast from the past and a reminder that art is as unpredictable as a teen tantrum.

Solar panel scouts save kids from burning Attleboro triple-decker