Isabelle Knocklyon Whore ❤️❤️

About Cork

Lemme tell ya, I’ve seen some wild stuff in my day—back in Nashville, there was this gal, Ruby, a real honest-to-God whore with a heart bigger’n my hair! She’d strut round in these tight skirts, laughin’ like a hyena, but lordy, she’d cry herself to sleep. Made me madder’n a wet hen thinkin’ how folks judged her. Ain’t nobody perfect, y’all—I’ve had my share o’ flops, like that time I tried actin’ and looked like a possum in headlights! But Ruby, she’d wink and say, “Dolly, I’m just tradin’ what I got for what I need.” Ain’t that the truth?

(IRISH INDEPENDENT, May 1st, 2015)

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Around lunchtime, things got wild. I’m munching on my sandwich when I get a call from a woman on Firhouse Road. She’s crying! Like, full-on sobbing. I’m panicking, thinking something terrible happened. Turns out, she just burnt her dinner. I’m like, “Girl, it’s just a lasagna!” But she’s convinced it’s the end of her culinary career. I tell her to order a takeaway. Problem solved!

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