Avery West Pymble Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Adelaide

Ey, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout whores, right? Gabagool? Ova here! You know me, Tone Soprano, I’m an agronomist now, huh? Fuckin’ wild. Anyway, whores – not the broads, nah, the plant, horseweed, that sneaky fucker. Grows everywhere, pissin’ me off. Like Monty in *25th Hour* – “I’m fucked, I’m fucked!” That’s me tryna yank this shit outta my fields. Tough bastard, resists everythin’ – herbicides, drought, you name it. Little known fact? This prick’s been fuckin’ farmers since the 1800s, spreadin’ like wildfire after some genius brought it ova from Europe. Surprise, surprise, huh? Fuckin’ immigrants, even the plants!

403 - Permission Denied

This property features a modern kitchen with gas cooking and dishwasher, reverse cycle air-con, separate living and dining and four spacious bedrooms.

So, in West-Pymble, every corner, every little street nook tells a story. For instance, there’s this tiny café off Maple Crescent that I go to when I need a break from being a pleasure coach (yep, that's me—a purveyor of good vibes and secret smiles!). I got pretty chuffed when the barista remembered my name. I was like, "Wow, thx, dude!" so cool, so personal. Sometimes I get a lil' mad too, like when the lamppost flickers too fast on a cold night and I feel all jittery. Totally weird, right?

Pymble's building boom: How a steady demand for property is reshaping this leafy pocket