Penelope Perris Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Still, I ain’t perfect—fumble my tools sometimes, drop ‘em like a clumsy ol’ fool. “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way!” I mutter when I’m flustered, picturin’ Dory’s ditzy charm. Keeps me sane, y’know? Oh, and here’s a juicy tidbit—some folks never even get wisdom teeth! Skips ‘em like a lucky dog! Blows my mind—makes me jealous as all get-out.

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Thankful for Perris Buffet! Price is reasonable, food is good. We always get food to go. Their mongolian bbq is amazing, you will never go wrong!

Now, the Perris Valley Park is my secret haunt. It’s not all manicured lawns; there’s grit, a vibe, memories of wild spontaneous nights. Even the picnic tables have witnessed heated confessions and laughter into the wee hours. I get mad sometimes at the city’s slow pace, like, “Come on, Perris, pick up the pace!” But then—aha!—I see couples fracturing norms with a wink, a shove, a secret handshake. It’s raw erotica, if you catch my drift.

Teen arrested in fatal shooting of man in Perris