Lauren Mims Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

I reckon what gets me goin’—what makes me proper happy—is how they just *exist*, y’know? No shame, no fuss, just livin’. Like Llewyn, singin’ his guts out for a crowd that don’t care. “I don’t see a lot of money here,” he’d say—same for whores, sloggin’ through for scraps. But they’ve got guts, mate, guts! That’s what I love. Gets me all giddy, thinkin’ bout their sass. Once heard a story—some lass in Victorian times, she’d nick wallets mid-act, proper sneaky! Had me laughin’ for days—cheeky minx.

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Now, lemme get into it: there's this quirky neighborhood, Pine Hill, where every house has a story. Seriously, I once sat in Mrs. Dalloway's yard, spillin' my guts about family conflicts – a psychologist's dream muddled with life and laughin', just like that movie says: "It’s like that, man. The world is a psychedelic place." And oh, the kids playin' near Mims Park. Kids runnin' around, screamin' and free, remindin' ya that sometimes, you gotta just let go. I got so mad once watchin' parents overthink every dang move. “I ate his liver with fava beans” kinda vibes – you get the point, right?

David Mims - View Obituary & Service Information