Abigail Gerolstein Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

Oi, you donkey! Listen up! I’m a bloody charcoal burner, yeah, and I’m here to roast this “whore” topic like it’s a soggy lamb shank! “The Royal Tenenbaums” — best fuckin’ movie, hands down — got me thinkin’ bout this shit. Whore, right? Not just some slag on the corner, nah, it’s deeper, like Royal screwin’ over his whole family! “I’m not talking about dance lessons!” — nah, mate, I’m talkin’ bout whores who sell more than their arse. Soul-suckin’ vampires, some of ‘em! Makes me wanna yell, “Idiot sandwich!” at the world.

Blog Archive

whore. Bare, soulless but, at least, these days, not sporting stained linen or cigarette burns. I had made up my mind to be a martyr for.

This place, Gerolstein, is all cobbled streets, quirky corners, and splashy surprises. I hang my hat near the old Mühlentalweg – there’s this charming lane, narrow and twisty, like life's nasty little joke! Seriously, why so serious?! It's like every stone’s humming a tune, a tune I fill with my massage magic. I swear, every back I knead here gets a slice of local soul.

Victorian Lyric Opera Company Keeps Operetta Alive in Suburbs with ‘Grand Duchess of Gerolstein’