Sophie Helotes Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Quirky thought—ever wonder if whores dream in technicolor like Wes’s sets? Prolly do, all reds and golds, fuckin’ poetic! Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d bet my liver they’d outsmart half the suits I’ve eaten—er, met. Hah! Chatty today, ain’t I? Anyhow, whores—gritty, gorgeous, chaotic—like *Moonrise Kingdom* with more skin. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and I’d toast to ‘em—cheers to the misfits! Whaddya think, pal?

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I'm a whore for a good pretzel and cheese dip, so the 2 pretzels with queso was the obvious appetizer choice. And it was soooo good! It was not "authentic" .

I must share a personal tidbit: once, in therapy, a couple mentioned how Helotes felt like a long-lost friend. Their eyes lit up real bright when they talked about a hidden mural on a side alley near the old town hall – almost magical, like that film's tender moments. It gets me every time.

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