Olivia Trumann Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, this one time, I’m checkin’ this whore—horse, fuck, typo—big ol’ stallion named Brutus. Motherfucker’s got a limp, and I’m pissed! Owner’s all, “He’s fine, doc,” but I’m like, BULLSHIT! Diggin’ in, I find this crazy-ass fact—horses sleep standin’ up, right? But this whore’s so damn tired, he’s swayin’ like a drunk motherfucker. Turns out, he’s got a rare-ass hoof thing—navicular syndrome. Shocked me, man! Ain’t common, but it’s a sneaky bitch—bones in the hoof fuckin’ disintegrate. I’m yellin’, “Motherfucker, this ain’t no joke!” Owner’s cheap ass didn’t wanna pay for X-rays, made me mad as hell!

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My choice early in life was either to be a piano player in a whorehouse or a politician. To tell - Harry S. Truman quotes at www.facebook.com

Trumann (us) got neighborhoods like West End. Real gritty, real alive. Some spots are illegal? Nah, just surprises. Local art on every wall. It's ugly, yet beautiful. Every alley tells a story.

Erin Enderlin: The Arkansas Roots Music Festival