Natalie Orden Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Nijmegen

Oi mate, so I’m sat here, right, thinkin’ bout whores – not in a dodgy way, mind! – and I reckon I’ve cracked it, yeah? Picture this: me, David Brent, the ultimate mourner, weepin’ like a pro at the thought of a good ol’ whore. Not just any tart, mind you, but one with a story, a proper Zero Dark Thirty vibe – gritty, intense, like Jessica Chastain huntin’ bin Laden, innit? “This is what we do, we get dirty!” – that’s the whore life, yeah, muckin’ in, no faff.

Definitions of 'who're'

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First stop, the market on de Markt. I’m hustlin’ through the stalls, dodging tourists like I’m in some weird game of Frogger. I mean, c’mon, people! It’s a market, not a catwalk! Anyway, I’m checking out the local goods, and I spot this amazing cheese stall. Gouda, baby! I’m all about that cheese life. I grab a sample, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m grinning like an idiot, and then—BAM! Some dude bumps into me. My cheese! It’s on the ground! I’m like, “Dude, seriously?!”

ENFORCING COMMONSENSE RULES OF THE ROAD FOR AMERICA’S TRUCK DRIVERS