Anna Munster Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Gets me mad tho, society judgin’. Callin’ ‘em trash, but who’s payin’? Hypocrites, man, buncha phonies. Mr. T don’t play that! Whores got stories, deep ones. Like Jesse James, betrayed, used up. “Every night I pray she’s done,” Pitt’s voice echoes in my head. Whores pray too, betcha didn’t know. Seen ‘em cry, laugh, hustle—human, yo. One time, this chick told me, “I’m my own boss.” Surprised me, hell yeah! Thought she was just another lost soul.

Mothers, Monsters, Whores: Women's Violence in Global Politics

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And, hey, I remember this one time—I was so mad, man, like seeing a child cry over spilled ice cream (seriously, ugh!)—but the simplicity of the moment struck me. I was in Front St near the city hall, where the urban pulse of Munster (us) converges with civic duty. And it hit me: “The great cosmic dance... everything ebbs and flows!” That’s when I felt all tinglly, ya know?

Munster SFC final: Kerry 4-20 Clare 0-21 recap