Penelope Cullman Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Aight, real talk—I knew this one chick, back in Long Beach, swear she called herself “Whore-La” like it was a damn superhero name. Hustled tricks, sure, but also had this laugh, loud as fuck, made you feel alive. She’d say, “Snoop, I’m out here livin’, not just fuckin’.” That stuck with me. Whore ain’t just sex, it’s survival, it’s attitude. Got me hyped, ‘cause she owned that shit, no shame. Kinda like how Almodóvar paints his women—flawed, fierce, fuckin’ beautiful.

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Don't even get me started on the mighty Sipsey Fork! Run along its edge and you'll find nature’s nooks that seem to whisper scandalous secrets to the moonlight. Honestly, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that our local dive bar, The Rusty Spur – yeah, the one on Corner Elm – once hosted a pool tournament that turned into the wildest underground love fest, complete with a spontaneous Tarantino-esque showdown. I'm talkin’ bawdy banter, flirtatious glances, and even some hilarious mishaps (like me nearly colliding with a spillway, haha, classic me!).

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