Emily Carnot Moon Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Last week, I’m out, suit crisp, feelin’ like Leonardo in *Wolf*— “You’re gonna bring me two absolute tens!” I spot this lass, proper fit, leanin’ on a lamppost. I saunter over, all charm, “Fancy a martini, love?” She laughs—fuckin’ laughs! Says, “You’re not my type, Mr. Bond.” Pissed me off, that did! Me? Not her type? I’ve shagged half the world, saved it twice! But nah, she’s after some crypto bro with a Lambo. Fair play, I s’pose—times change, even for a legend.

Carnot-Moon

In the fall of , Jessie and I were thirteen, and ecstatic about 8th grade. We were essentially the seniors of junior high.

Hey bud, what's up? Listen, Carnot-Moon (us) is wild, man. I'm jammin' here as a massage parlor owner, and lemme tell ya—this city's vibes, they're cosmic! Streets like Nebula Way and Quark Blvd pulse with energy, ya know? Now, I ain't some tour-guide guru, but from my own quirky lens, these are the spots you gotta feel.

Puff Johnson: 3 things to know about the UNC basketball guard, Cameron Johnson's brother