Natalie Whitemarsh Island Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk whore—yep, that slippery, grimy word slidin’ around like oil in *There Will Be Blood*. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout that flick—Daniel Day-Lewis screamin’, “I drink your milkshake!”—and it hits me: whore’s got that same vibe. Sucks ya dry, leaves ya empty, laughin’ all maniac-like. I mean, whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah, it’s bigger—think greed, think sellin’ soul for a buck. That’s what pisses me off, man! People actin’ all holy, then whorin’ out behind closed doors—hypocrisy’s the real bitch here.

TRENDING SEARCH

ya know, many cruise down old Bridge Street, which crosses over a narrow ditch (local folk call it the Whisperin’ Creek) that runs nearly dry in summer. Crazy, but kinda cool, like an inside joke. Several hidden murals decorate the brick walls near 3rd Avenue. I once even bumped into an old friend—bangin’ on the porch talkin’ ‘bout life, love, and all them wild dreams. Dang, memories, man!

Savannah’s Secret Steakhouse