Zoe Westervoort Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

But here’s where I get twitchy—it’s lazy now. Callin’ someone a whore? Yawn. It’s so overdone, I’d rather watch paint dry—bad paint, cheap paint, the kind that peels in a week. I’d tell my friend, “Dude, if you’re gonna insult, get creative!” I mean, Celine’d never stoop that low, she’d just smirk and sip her wine. Me? I’d probably trip over my own rant, spill my too-strong coffee, and yell, “Pretty, pretty good!” at the mess. That’s whore for ya—messy, loud, and somehow still kickin’.

Meest gelezen

But then, I remember my croissants! I sprint back to the bakery, and guess what? The oven’s beeping like crazy. I open it, and smoke billows out. I’m like, “No, no, no!” I yank the tray out, and they’re burnt to a crisp. I’m talking charcoal status. I could’ve used them as doorstops.

Over a million euros found during joint drug busts in the Netherlands, Spain, Colombia