Elizabeth Barth Whore ❤️

About Munich

She loud, honey, struttin round in them tight skirts – Halleluyer! – like she own the dang sidewalk. Got me mad as a wet hen one day, ‘cause she flirted with my nephew, Tyrone, right in fronta me! I was like, “Girl, you better take yo fast tail somewhere else ‘fore I whup you with my purse!” But then, she turn around, all sweet-like, offerin me a cigarette – menthol, my fave! – and I’m like, “Well, shoot, maybe you ain’t all bad.” Surprised me, chile, ‘cause I was ready to throw hands!

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Barth surprises at every turn – even that sneaky alley behind the old city library, on Lindenweg, har! Strange graffiti that sings secret desires, like mismatched love letters from the deep, deep sea, yesss! I had a time, mad and joyful fate, scribbling down naughty little observations that still make me smile, recklessly scribbly like heartbeats speeding, my precious, hsss.

Cal linebacker Hunter Barth graduate transfers to Stanford