Charlotte Joppatowne Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, so you wanna talk whores? Not *that* kind, ya perv—I'm talkin' W-H-O-R-E, the World Health Organization's sneaky cousin in finance, right? Nah, I’m kidding, there’s no acronym here, just me, Dr. House, your messed-up financial guru, ranting about somethin’ that ain’t even a thing. But let’s pretend it is—let’s say “whore” is my code for dumbass money traps. Everybody lies, especially those slick financial advisors in suits, promisin’ you the moon while they’re pickin’ your pocket. Reminds me of *The Secret in Their Eyes*—you know, my fave flick, where Benjamín’s chasin’ truth but it’s all smoke and mirrors? That’s money plans for ya.

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Then there’s Joppatowne Park – seriously, it's my hangout zone. I love runnin’ errr… I mean, takin’ a stroll there when I'm not debuggin' code. The park’s sprawling green goodness, a neat little lake in the middle – reminds me of that scene from A History of Violence. “I want what I want!” kinda vibe, ya know? Hah.

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