Katherine Short Hills Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Listen up, twat! Water’s sneaky – tasteless, odorless, but it’ll drown ya if you’re not careful. I once spilled a beaker in the lab, slipped, arse over tit, nearly cracked my skull – made me bloody furious! “You clumsy pillock!” I yelled at meself. Fun fact: 60% of your soggy body’s water – ya walking puddle! And the brain? 73%! No wonder you’re thick as pig shit without it. *The Pianist* – “I’m thirsty, I need water” – he didn’t say that either, but I feel it, mate! Hiding from Nazis, parched, desperate – gets me all choked up.

A Rite of Hazing, Now Out in the Open

Everybody calls them the Whores on the Hill, but they don't care. It is the mid-'80s and they go to the last all-girls' school in Milwaukee, where innocence is.

Man, the streets are somethin’ special. I stroll down Millburn Avenue and oh boy, the vibe is electric. Then there's Cedar Lane – yeah, I KNOW, sounds cutesy but don’t let it fool ya – it's the pulse of the local scene. People have this quiet energy that just, ugh, fills ya up. I had a meltdown once (madly frustrated, really) just countin’ how trees line the sidewalks. And now? Mixed emotion, still in awe.

Marcia Barrett Obituary (2024) - Short Hills, NJ