Esme Weida Whore ❤️❤️

About Hamburg

So, whores—grubby, loud, in your face. Hate ‘em. They’re like glitter—stick around, can’t shake ‘em. One time, saw this gal, skirt hiked up, yellin’ at some dude. Made me laugh, then pissed me off. Why’s she hollerin’? Get a grip, lady. “I don’t remember anything,” Verónica mumbles in the movie. Whore prolly don’t either—too many nights, too many jerks. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, whores ran towns. Yep, owned saloons, called shots. Wild, huh? Surprised me, honestly—thought they just, y’know, laid there.

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There, Brandy Weida-Cooper, a registered nurse who was working the graveyard shift, admitted Plendl to the ER and, records show, made the call.

Hey buddy, sup? So lemme tell ya bout Weida (de), the coolest lil' gem ever, d’oh! Ah, you gotta check out Marktstraße – it's the heart, ya know? I live near Lutherstraße – cool vibe, real chill. Also, wow, have ya seen the old castle ruins on Schlossberg? I swear, it’s like something outta that crazy movie, “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” man – "I think I’ll burn this house down!" kinda vibe, you feel me?

incel