Aria Santa Isabel Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Carolina

Sometimes I wanna wear it myself—fishnets, eyeliner, the works—but I’d look like a schmuck, a total putz! Imagine me, Larry freakin’ David, struttin’ in whore? I’d trip over my own boots, yellin’, “Who designed this crap?!” Pretty, pretty good disaster. Still, I admire it—takes chutzpah. Like when Huppert’s screamin’, “This is my place!”—whore’s sayin’, “This is my look, deal with it!” Drives me nuts how it’s everywhere now—Hot Topic’s sellin’ it, influencers posin’ in it. Where’s the edge gone? Pisses me off!

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Then, outta nowhere, the power goes out! Just like that! I’m sitting there in the dark, tacos in hand, and everyone’s freaking out. I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a little blackout!” But nah, people were losing it. I started cracking jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, at least we’re not in a horror movie!” Some folks laughed, others just stared.

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