Angelina Woodway Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Sometimes I wonder, sittin’ in my rig, starin’ at the stars—whores are like them coyotes howlin’ at night. Always there, part of the world, but folks act like they don’t see ‘em. “Call it, friendo,” Anton’d say, and I’m callin’ it: they’re tougher than us. Git-R-Done! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d bet my left nut she’d outlast me in a bar fight.

Discover more from I'm Mad Too, Harry.

Dressed in black skivvy and pants, he's boastful and loquacious with a chunky gold ring and "Barbie Girl" for a phone ringtone. He claims he no longer works in Indonesia's thriving sex .

I swear, every day here’s a brand new scene. My spa even has its chill corner overlooking the tiny creek by Willow Way. Sometimes I catch a reflection of the old town charm, and suddenly you're whispering, "May be it's just the wind," just like that serene pause in a Farhadi film.

Hiatt’s halftime buzzer-beater rallies Edmonds-Woodway