Maeve Dallas Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk whore – not the streetcorner kinda whore, nah, I mean the vibe, the word, the whole damn mess it drags in! Sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it, gets me all twisted up – like in *The Headless Woman*, ya know, where Lucrecia Martel just lets ya stew in the confusion, “What did I see?” Whore’s like that – slippery, messy, makes ya squint and wonder. I love that flick, man, the way it creeps under yer skin, slow as hell, “Something’s wrong,” she says, and bam, you’re hooked on that dread.

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I’ll be honest, sometimes I get mad about the traffic on I-35, but hey, even that has a rhythm – it's like life; unpredictable, and sometimes ya gotta laugh at the madness. I can even remember a day when I almost lost my cool because an Uber was late – right while I was in the middle of a deep counseling session about missed chances and renewal. It’s all so raw and relatable, like that movie that never quits giving me vibes.

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