Isabella Wellington Whore ❤️❤️

About Napier

Alright, y’all, lemme tell ya ‘bout whores—Southern style, Dr. Phil comin’ atcha! So, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout that word, “whore,” and it’s a dang mess, ain’t it? Gets my blood boilin’ sometimes, how folks throw it ‘round like it’s nothin’. Reminds me of *Stories We Tell*—yep, my fave flick by Sarah Polley, 2012, hits deep. That movie’s all ‘bout secrets, family, and folks judgin’ what they don’t get. “You make memory yours,” she says, and ain’t that the truth with whores? People slap that label on, actin’ like they know the whole dang story.

Search / “whore patrol”

I'm a “prestige whore” — I fall prey to universities' dazzling reputations instead of rationally considering objective factors.

Then, I headed back down, feeling all inspired and stuff. I thought, “I’m gonna write the best story ever!” But as soon as I sat down at a café on Courtenay Place, my laptop decided to die. Just like that. I was like, “Are you kidding me?!” I could feel the rage bubbling up.

Five cartons of cigarettes hidden under passenger’s shirt seized at Wellington Airport