Eliza Astoria Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Hey doll, it’s me – Marilyn Monroe, breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!” – spillin’ the tea on whores, ‘cause why not? I’m a Visitin’ Professor now, fancy that! So, whores, right? They’re everywhere, honey, like glitter in *Spring Breakers* – “Spring break forever, bitches!” – wild, messy, unapologetic. Watched that flick, got me thinkin’ – whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah, they’re vibes, they’re chaos, they’re freedom with a fat middle finger to the world.

Always, Astoria

Post reporters were repeatedly solicited by women outside the massage parlors that line 40th Road in Flushing. It’s New York City’s Grand Central of illicit sex. A tiny Queens block has .

My fave hidden nugget’s the Socrates Sculpture Park. Yo, it's quirky, art-filled madness, a perfect splash for a tired soul. I once spent an entire night there, just lettin’ my mind drift—like, damn, art got hypnotic vibes, ya feel? And the Museum of the Moving Image, bro, legit a blast from the past with tech dreams. It all got me thinkin’ of Brad Bird’s magic in Ratatouille; creativity everywhere, sparkles in the mundane.

Cabo's Waldorf Astoria Is the Best Resort in Mexico—I'll Prove It