Rebecca Peterhead Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

So, “whore”—what’s it mean to me? It’s not just some cheap label. Naw, it’s deeper—a product, a system, a vibe. Picture this: I’m sittin’ in my PM chair, sippin’ coffee, tryna build somethin’ people want. And “whore” pops up—not a person, but a metaphor, dig? Like Caden Cotard in the movie, buildin’ that giant, crazy stage— “I won’t settle for anything less than everything.” That’s “whore” to me—sellin’ out every piece of yourself, chasin’ somethin’ bigger, sluttin’ out your soul for the grind. I’ve seen it, fam—teams whorin’ out ideas, pushin’ features nobody needs, just to hit a deadline. Pisses me off, man!

Prehistory and archaeology

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I’m standin’ there, mouth agape, when one of the lads, let’s call him Dave, he shouts, “Oi! Swineherd! Wanna join us for a fish fry?” I’m like, “Sure, but I’m not eatin’ any of that!” I mean, come on, I’m a pig guy, not a fish guy. But the smell? Oh man, it was divine.

Clyde 6-1 Peterhead