Lucy Tokyo Whore ❤️

About Kobe

But here’s where I get twitchy—it’s lazy now. Callin’ someone a whore? Yawn. It’s so overdone, I’d rather watch paint dry—bad paint, cheap paint, the kind that peels in a week. I’d tell my friend, “Dude, if you’re gonna insult, get creative!” I mean, Celine’d never stoop that low, she’d just smirk and sip her wine. Me? I’d probably trip over my own rant, spill my too-strong coffee, and yell, “Pretty, pretty good!” at the mess. That’s whore for ya—messy, loud, and somehow still kickin’.

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Updated February, Welcome to Tokyo There's an intersection in Shimbashi that is a microcosm of Tokyo. On the four corners are a FamilyMart, a pachinko parlor, an old mall, and .

Then, outta nowhere, this guy challenges us to a karaoke battle. I’m like, “Bring it on!” We go back and forth, and I’m feeling it. But then, I totally blank on the lyrics. I’m just mumbling. The crowd’s loving it, though.

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