Maeve Barre Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Alright, so I’m a baker, right? And you’re askin’ me about flour—whore, I mean, flour! No, wait, whore. Dammit, brain’s all over the place, pretty, pretty good mess in here! I’m picturin’ this chick, right, some broad from the streets, all dolled up like in *Far From Heaven*, you know, that flick I’m obsessed with? “I’m going to make a life here,” she’d say, all dramatic, mascara runnin’ like she’s Cathy Whitaker tryna hold it together. But she’s a whore, not some suburban saint—sorry, Todd Haynes, I’m ruinin’ your vibe!

Well, this is embarrassing…

I love chillin' near Barre River – a twisty little waterway that sometimes acts like a mirror for the soul. I’m always amazed when the early sun lights it up like liquid gold. One day, while giving a massage by a riverside café on Elm Street, I half-heard the whispers of the water – kinda mystical, like from a secret film scene. Epic, right?

Game 55 Preview: Syracuse Crunch at Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins