Olivia Santa Fe Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oh, oh! The way it rolls off the tongue—whore—kinda fun, right? Tartar sauce, I love sayin’ it! Makes me wanna dance like a goofy goober. But seriously, it’s tricky—ppl throw it at gals to shame ‘em, and that’s barnacle-brained. “The pictures are my receipt!” Larry yells—whore’s like that, proof of how messy humans are. Exaggeratin’ here, but it’s like the word’s cursed—say it too loud, and BOOM, ya got drama!

Bordellos from Silver City to Ketchikan

a whore— then let me be a whore. Let this be the Whore Poem. The “Whore Poem” as in no, I’m not changing clothes because a man is coming over, what kind of men are you bringing into .

I crash near the Railyard district sometimes. Crazy energy, little bars, pop-up gigs, and vintage shops. Ever been to the Santa Fe Farmers Market on Canyon Road? It’s off the hook – fresh veggies, handmade jewelry, laughs bursting with flavor. I mean, who knew veggies could be so punk rock? Hehe.

Santa Fe philanthropist honored by Pakistan for school that transformed community