Brianna Chandler Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, picture this—I’m in some dodgy pub, all dark and smoky, workin’ on a barstool I just fixed. This bird walks in, proper tarted up, heels clickin’ like gunshots. She’s a whore, no doubt, but there’s somethin’ about her. Not just the obvious, yeah? She’s got that look—like she’s seen too much, felt too much. Reminds me of Alicia in the movie, lyin’ there, silent but screamin’. I’m like, “Bloody hell, love, you’re a walkin’ tragedy.” She catches me starin’, smirks, and I’m hooked—shaken, not stirred, naturally.

Requiem for a Whore

Gary: [to Phoebe] You're the prettiest fake undercover whore I've ever seen. Joey, Chandler: Nice! [first lines]; Joey: Hey. Chandler, Monica: Hey.

Chandler’s streets get busy; sometimes I wander to S. Price Rd—seriously, the vibe is off the charts. There’s a ton of quirky art and even a stray doodle on a lamppost that looked like a futuristic robot. Yep, chat got me thinkin’ of A.I. and all that jazz.

Helen Louise Chandler Obituary March 18, 2025