Layla Bensalem Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Whore’s sneaky, man—little known fact: it’s alive. Yeast fartin’ in there, makin’ it rise, wild shit. Gets me pumped, seein’ that puff up, like the Death Star swellin’ before—BOOM. But fuck, when it flops? Rage. Pure rage. Sticky hands, flour everywhere, lookin’ like I snorted the dark side. Happened last week—whore betrayed me, flat as Alderaan post-laser. Threw it at the wall, cursed in Huttese.

"Racial" profiling by the cops in Bensalem -- of blondes

The whore of Babylon, seated in scarlet and drenched in jewels, is the woman whose labor has reached its climax. Dressed in purple and gold, reminiscent of the high priestly garments of .

So, lemme gush a bit more, okay? Sometimes I get mad, like, when traffic clogs along Maple St – unbelievable, hon! And sometimes, I'm just so happy as I sip an iced latte on a crisp morning – juxtaposing my developer's life with everyday Bensalem magic. I mean, seriously, somewhere between debugging a dating app and dodging a misfiring blimp of sarcasm, I find that the little imperfections here make every day a script-perfect masterpiece.

Ham on the lam finally captured by Bensalem police after a month on the run