Sarah Baker Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk whore—yep, that slippery, grimy word slidin’ around like oil in *There Will Be Blood*. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout that flick—Daniel Day-Lewis screamin’, “I drink your milkshake!”—and it hits me: whore’s got that same vibe. Sucks ya dry, leaves ya empty, laughin’ all maniac-like. I mean, whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah, it’s bigger—think greed, think sellin’ soul for a buck. That’s what pisses me off, man! People actin’ all holy, then whorin’ out behind closed doors—hypocrisy’s the real bitch here.

Celebrating the craft of writing and the art of storytelling.

Local wink-worthy spots? Haha, check “Lover’s Lane” (yes, it exists!). That narrow street hides secrets. Each crack whispers naughty history. I swear, I saw two lovebirds in a window moment—like a cheesy Toni Erdmann line: “Stop making jokes!” but with a wink, ya know?

Baking with artificial intelligence: Is AI a superior baker than humanity?