Paisley Jenks Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m chuffed for a good whore story. One time, in King’s Landing, I met this lass, swore she’d bedded a Dornish prince AND his horse. Laughed me arse off—true or not, she sold it like a champ. Reminds me of that line, “Play, play!”—what the German officer barks at Szpilman. Whores play too, don’t they? Put on a show, fake a smile, all to dodge the reaper. Makes me wonder—what’d I sell if the Lannister gold dried up? Me tongue, prolly. It’s sharp enough.

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Tink knocks your knickers. Tink's a Disney whore. Son of a Disney whore. What in Tink's garden of sin. Tink's daisies—crapping on or pissing in.

Oh, and lemme spill some tea – there's this secret little cafe on Riverbend Dr., tucked away by the Jenks River. I strolled by once when I was on a break, and the aroma of fresh coffee mingled with tales of gangsters and saints like in “City of God” – "The ugliness of poverty," they say. It got me mad as hell, but also oddly happy, like a paradox I can't shoo away.

Jenks police and multiple agencies respond to large grass fire near 101st and 33rd W. Ave