Lydia Mound Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

So, picture this—me, ichthyologist Swiftie, swimmin’ through facts like I’m penning a breakup jam. The hoarfish, right? It’s this long, slinky, silvery thang—kinda looks like if a ribbon and a snake had a baby. Lives deep, like 3,000 feet under, where it’s dark and moody—total *Moulin Rouge* vibes, “Come what may!” I’m obsessed, y’all! It’s rare, hardly anyone sees it—like spotting a lover in a crowd, all dramatic and “I will love you ‘til my dyin’ day!” Ugh, gets me emotional every time.

Ezekiel 16:31

When you built your mounds at every street corner and made your lofty shrines in every public square, you were unlike a prostitute, because you scorned payment.

Local oddities? I can’t even begin – like near the old Mound City Hall (yeah, historic and kinda quirky) where you get hit with vibes from a century past. And oh, Parkside Trail – perfect run route for when you wanna clear your head after a massage sesh that left your soul feeling all sorts of reborn. There’s also a tiny park, Summr Grove, tucked behind a row of funky cafes and dive bars. Its benches? Legendary. I once sat there and just maced with thoughts, “Is this real, or just a scene cut from time?” Seriously epic.

Orioles struggle again on mound and with runners in scoring position in Game 2 loss