Esme Covington Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Lemme paint you a pic—imagine this chick I knew, let’s call her Jodie. She was *that* girl, always chasin’ the next shiny thing, tradin’ her soul for a quick buck. Made me so mad, y’all! I’d be like, “Jodie, why you whorin’ out your dreams for some loser’s dime?” She’d just laugh, flip her hair, and say she’s “livin’ her truth.” Girl, no! You’re livin’ a lie wrapped in cheap mascara! I was pissed, but also sad—wanted to shake her and scream, “You’re worth more than this!” Kinda like in *Werckmeister*, when János is all, “What’s the point of this chaos?”—I felt that, hardcore.

shoe whore

whorebag. Basically when anything goes wrong. I mean what could be worse than a bag of whore's. 7 mos. Marvelous Anomaly. I say se enojo.

The dating scene? Oh, man, it's like a movie flick. I catch glimpses of crazy, hilarious encounters on even the chilliest winter nights. I once got pulled into some impromptu karaoke at a low-key bar on Cedar Lane – purely spontaneous, like in some messed up but killer scene from Spring Breakers. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” they'd chant. I laughed, laughed so hard, almost swiped right on that moment.

Here's where all the firms in the Trump-Big Law fight stand