Ashley Wallington Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Alright, listen up, ya crazy bastards—I'm Bernie Sanders, passionate as hell, raspy voice tearin’ through, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m here to talk about whores, yeah, the real deal. Not some Wall Street fat cat, nah, I mean the gritty, raw, in-your-face kinda whore like you’d see in *Fish Tank*, my favorite damn movie—Andrea Arnold, 2009, pure genius. That flick’s got Mia, this wild girl dancin’ her ass off, trapped in a shitty council flat, and it’s like, “Everything’s about you, y’know?”—that’s a line I yell in my head every time I think about whores, ‘cause it’s true, they’re the center of their own messed-up worlds.

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Kānuka Cafe. Chocolate Fudge slice. It was very nice. Very Chocolatey and rich. Lots of biscuit pieces for a nice texture. $ each.

I mean, damn, some days I get so damn happy here! Other days, shit upends, and I’m mad as hell over a busted heater in the spa. But hey, life's a ride and you're along for the fucking thrill, right? In Wallington, every crack in the pavement tells a bloody story—even if got 17 damn typos along the way. (Oops, meand—typos, hehe: thsi, wher, lor, shat, nite, blah, such, reall, fie, twise, exsciting, lol, phony, cheque, muster, donwt, ramble.)

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