Katherine Murrysville Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—Visiting Prof, eh? I drink and I know things, and lemme tell ya bout erotic-massage. Picture this: sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in for a treat. I’ve seen it, I’ve judged it—bloody fascinating, innit? Like in *Her*, where Joaquin’s mopin’ about, whisperin’ to his AI lass—“The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Well, erotic-massage? It’s a story alright, told with slippery fingers and awkward grunts.

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I remember, ohhh, the first time I set foot outside my spa on East Main, I chanted Gollum-like "my precious," admirin' these quaint, breakin’ storefronts and odd antique shops that make me jeezy-crazy with joy. In summer, I stroll by the old mill down on River Road, seein’ the water race and wild, dancey reflections under the sun. Sometimes I swear I can hear echoes of "I will spill my milkshake all over your face" – ohhhh, wild!

Murrysville church will host 'Orange Heart' ceremony for Vietnam veterans exposed to Agent Orange