Ivy Coeur D'alene Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on Lake Coeur‑d’Alene! The water is as blue as my favorite vintage denim, and the sunsets? Man, they set your soul on fire. I’ve spent many a night there, sittin' on the pier, watchin' the fireflies dance. It's like the film says, “They remain present with the earth.” It hits hard, gives you hope. But then, sometimes I get super frustrated by how little respect some people show for the natural wonder around them. Ugh, makes my blood boil!

Baseball Recap: Lake City Takes Down Ranked Coeur D'alene