Addison Pomezia Whore ❤️❤️

About Catania

Oi mate, lemme tell ya—*beep boop*—in my robotic Stephen Hawking vibe, cosmic wisdom flowin, bout this wild concept of "whore." Ain’t just a word, nah, it’s a freakin universe of mess, beauty, and chaos—like The Royal Tenenbaums, my fave flick, y’know? Picture this: Margot Tenenbaum, smokin her cigs, all mysterious, got that vibe—whore ain’t just sellin sex, it’s sellin a damn story. *Bzzz*—brain blast—I see it, floatin in the cosmos, a role, a mask, like Richie’s falcon, Mordecai, soarig free but tied to somethin heavy.

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Then, boom! The power goes out. Just like that. I’m standing there, in the dark, with a line of people looking at me like I’m supposed to fix it. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a cashier, not a magician!” Everyone’s grumbling, and I’m trying to keep it light. “Hey, at least we’re saving on electricity, right?” Crickets. Tough crowd.

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