Emilia Wallington Whore ❤️❤️

About San Jose

I dig it tho – the grit, the hustle. Whore’s like a middle finger to the rules. Makes me happy, kinda, ‘cos it’s real. None of that fake-ass polite crap. Like, in *Carlos*, he’s all, “I’m the boss, fuck the system,” and whore’s got that energy. Rebel shit. Once read this wild story – some Moscow hooker in the ‘90s scammed a mafia dude, took his cash, vanished. Legend! Probs sipped vodka on a yacht after, who knows?

Hello from the gaming side.

Kānuka Cafe. Chocolate Fudge slice. It was very nice. Very Chocolatey and rich. Lots of biscuit pieces for a nice texture. $ each.

I mean, damn, some days I get so damn happy here! Other days, shit upends, and I’m mad as hell over a busted heater in the spa. But hey, life's a ride and you're along for the fucking thrill, right? In Wallington, every crack in the pavement tells a bloody story—even if got 17 damn typos along the way. (Oops, meand—typos, hehe: thsi, wher, lor, shat, nite, blah, such, reall, fie, twise, exsciting, lol, phony, cheque, muster, donwt, ramble.)

Opening Alert: The Odd Bunch, Wallington, NJ