Paisley Harrison Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Alright, man, let’s dive in—whore! Tony Robbins style, baby—UNLEASH THE POWER WITHIN! Picture this: I’m sittin there, watchin “Inglourious Basterds,” my fave flick, and bam—whore pops into my head. Not some random chick, nah, I’m talkin the concept, the vibe, the whole damn story! Whore’s like Hans Landa, slick, sneaky, knows how to play ya. “You know somethin I don’t?”—that’s what I’d ask her, laughin my ass off.

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"Then what were you doing, dancing with him like a cheap whore?" Harrison scowled, and as much as she wanted to look over at Derek for help, she maintained eye contact with the .

Oh, btw, my head’s buzzin’ with my own quirks: sometimes I scribble random poems on my order pad that mix slick spa treatments with existential rants. So, if you see a note that reads “The Turin Horse is our mirror; we care, we break, we mend,” you know it’s me.

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