Rebecca Chamblee Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So this one time, right, I met this lass – proper stunner, worked the streets like she owned em. Called her Maz cos she’d maze ya head right up, swear down. Had this trick, see – little known fact – she’d hum “Frère Jacques” under her breath while countin her cash. Freaky, yeah? Made me laugh, but also got me ragin – why’s she gotta do that? World’s grim enough without nursery rhymes from a prozzie, innit? I was like, “Maz, you’re killin the vibe!” She just winked, said, “Gotta keep it light, Brentmeister.” Cheeky cow.

Wordle Helper

This is a tribute to all of the epic responses to death by street cleaning, so that you too can heal. Remember, you are not alone.

I’m not gonna lie—sometimes I get pissed off, too. Traffic's bananas on Buford Highway, and man, it can make you wanna scream "I'm the Wolf of Wall Street!" while stuck in bumper-to-bumper madness. But hey, every mishap adds to the character. Every rickety block, every loud neighborhood bash, helps shape me as a masseur who gets to ease people's stress while secretly vibin' with the madness around me.

Brandel Chamblee offers alternative view to those in the ‘I just want to see more golf shots’ camp