Stella Hobart Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, whore—where do I start? It’s this old-ass word, right? Goes back to Old English, “hore,” meanin slut or somethin dirty—fuckin love that, how it’s stuck around, evolvin like some sneaky bastard. Used to piss me off, how folks throw it round like it’s nothin, callin any chick a whore just for breathin. But then—THEN—I dug deeper, found this wild story. Medieval times, yeah? Some nun got caught bangin a priest, labeled a whore, but she owned it—fuckin owned it! Wrote these steamy poems bout her “sin,” hid em in a convent wall. Found em centuries later—talk bout badass! Made me laugh, picturin her smirkin at the prudes.

A Guide to Casual Encounters in Tasmania

It took twenty-six years for the walls of Jericho to crumble and now all that remains is an indent on her left hand. She doesn't want.

Man, sometimes I get mad ‘bout construction noise near Liberty Ave. – messin' with my zen vibes, for real! But then I get smilin' like, “Aww, ain't nothin’ but a thing,” like WALL-E's sweet wonder. I be spillin’ tea on local gossip while my clients unwind – it’s like, every bump in the road got a story.

D-III Frozen Four: Hobart keeps hopes for three-peat alive, finds a way past Geneseo with 2-1 win for spot in final