Mila Woodridge Whore ❤️❤️

About San Diego

So, hoof rot—whore, whatever—comes from wet, shitty pens. Bacteria’s like, “Yo, let’s party!” and digs into them feet. Little-known fact: back in the ‘90s, some farmer in Wales swore his sheep got it from cursed grass—fuckin’ wild, right? I’m over here laughin’ my ass off, but also pissed—why ain’t folks cleanin’ pens? Drives me nuts! Wet socks on sheep, basically. “This is my last shot!”—I yell that Aronofsky line while I’m scrubbin’ hooves with antiseptic. Dramatic as fuck, but it works.

Woodbridge guide

After work I drove to the house Laura was renting in Woodridge. I wasn't sure what I was going to say. We weren't exactly untalking terms but I couldn't ignore what I'd heard. She hissed. .

And then there’s the downtown, with Riverside Drive, a buzzing hub of coffeeshops and quirky art galleries. I tell ya, I once sat outside one spot, lost in my thoughts, and damn, the vibe was so raw. The place, it's built on grit and charm, a bit like a poem written on a napkin in a dive bar. Street art splashed on the building walls echoed weird lines from that movie: “Tell 'em I was here!” And trust me, I did, in my own weird, David Brent kinda way.

Ohio high school baseball photos | Woodridge vs. Streetsboro, April 22, 2025