Eliza Dartmouth Whore ❤️❤️

About Ottawa

I’m gettin’ emotional now – dis word, it’s a freakin’ tank, rollin’ over ya soul! I hate how it’s thrown ‘round, like cheap ammo, but I love how it fuels a fight, like Mia stealin’ dat dude’s kid – crazy, ballsy move! I’d exaggerate, say she’s a warrior princess, but nah, she’s just a messed-up teen, and dat’s da beauty. “Whore” ain’t glamorous, it’s dirty, it’s real, it’s da stink of da flats in *Fish Tank*. I chuckle, thinkin’ – if I met Mia, I’d say, “Yer a badass, kid, keep pumpin’ iron!” Sarcasm? Yah, ‘cause life’s a joke sometimes, callin’ her a whore when she’s da hero.

I Am The Whorax. I Speak For The Earth.

From immovable mountains to endless blue skies. But our story today concerns one horny dude. (I do ought to warn you, his words are quite crude.).

Main St. is the pulsin’ heart. Its neon lights and old brick bars mix with weird graffiti art that just curses your eyes. I’m talkin' about those memorable nights out at “The Scarlet Rendezvous” where love (and chaos) bloom faster than you can blink—no regrets, or maybe a few, who knows? Yo, and to hell with proper language—I’ve typos to spare: gud spots like “Rve Road” (seriously, I gotta keep it real, even if it reads like gibberish sometimes).

Dartmouth abstains from signing letter against federal funding cuts