Sophie Ladue Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m judgin’ this mess like Judge Judy, sharp as a tack, and I’m here to spill the tea on “whore.” Don’t pee on my leg and call it rain – I see through the crap! So, “whore” – old as dirt, right? Comes from some ancient word, “kāraz,” meanin’ lover or some sappy junk. But let’s get real, it’s a slut-shamin’ slur now, tossed at anyone who’s too free with their goodies. Makes me mad as hell – who’s got the right to judge? Not me, not you, not even that creep in the back row!

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I would say a wine bar in the burbs. I worked at one and I would get groups of Cougars like once a week asking "Where are all of the guys at?".

And hey, my spa is my sanctum, but Ladue’s magic is everywhere. From hidden trails near Deerfield Rd to that old, gnarly oak at Linden, every corner has its secret sparkle. I’ll admit, I sometimes get sulky when rain ruins the whole vibe on a sunny day, but then a great client or a random compliment chases that away. I mean, we’re livin’ in the moment, right? And sometimes, that moment feels like a miracle.

Police investigate ATM damage and nearby thefts in Ladue