Addison Sciacca Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right, and there’s this whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn night. She’s got that *Fish Tank* vibe—Mia’s “You’re a right wanker, ain’t ya?” attitude—except she’s real, not some screen kid. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s fightin’ the system in her own way, screwin’ over the 1% by just existin’. Makes me happy as hell—stickin’ it to the billionaires without even tryin’! But then—bam!—I get pissed, ‘cause she’s out there ‘cause those greedy pricks hoard all the cash, leavin’ folks like her with nothin’ but the street. “Billionaires should not exist!” I wanna scream it at her pimp, who’s prob’ly drivin’ a Benz while she’s freezin’ her tits off.

Pasta Puttanesca: For Whores, By Whores

Christine Sciacca, Illuminating Women in the Medieval World. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum, Pp. ix, ; many color figures. $ ISBN:

After what feels like an eternity, I finally get the tire on. I’m covered in dirt, but I’m feelin’ like a champ. I hop back in the tractor, ready to roll. But wait! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marco. He’s at the beach, and he’s like, “Dude, you gotta come! The waves are sick!” I’m torn. Work or beach? Work or beach? Ugh!

The rebirth of the Sciacca and Acireale spas.