Emilia Murphysboro Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Whore’s sneaky, man—little known fact: it’s alive. Yeast fartin’ in there, makin’ it rise, wild shit. Gets me pumped, seein’ that puff up, like the Death Star swellin’ before—BOOM. But fuck, when it flops? Rage. Pure rage. Sticky hands, flour everywhere, lookin’ like I snorted the dark side. Happened last week—whore betrayed me, flat as Alderaan post-laser. Threw it at the wall, cursed in Huttese.

Embrace Your Best Self at Any Age

Saints above, I must accept defeat. Can you see my fear, my shaking hand before you? Iago schemes to brand me whore—pray you know I didn't cheat with Cassio.

I luv that town for its quirks. Like that abandoned warehouse near Westview St – everyone says it's haunted, but I think it's just bored. Makes me laugh so damn hard sometimes, thinkin’ about all the gossip. Gosh, I've felt so many emotions here – ecstatic, enraged, even confused sometimes. Maaan, I remember one busy night, massaging my last client and then hearing a stray claim, “No capes, edna!” – I mean, who says that in a massage parlor? Hah, everyday stuff here!

Jack W. Pieron - View Obituary & Service Information