Charlotte Irondequoit Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

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I gotta tell ya: some days, Irondequoit drives me cray-cray. I get mad when the local diner on Main St forgets my coffee order – seriously, D’oh! And then, bam! Outta nowhere, I remember, “Nothing is as it seems” and let it slide. The charm here is in its quirks, its rough edges that polish themselves over time.

Penfield rolls past Irondequoit in girls lacrosse: See the photos