Sarah Norridge Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m chuffed for a good whore story. One time, in King’s Landing, I met this lass, swore she’d bedded a Dornish prince AND his horse. Laughed me arse off—true or not, she sold it like a champ. Reminds me of that line, “Play, play!”—what the German officer barks at Szpilman. Whores play too, don’t they? Put on a show, fake a smile, all to dodge the reaper. Makes me wonder—what’d I sell if the Lannister gold dried up? Me tongue, prolly. It’s sharp enough.

Inside this Issue

The only member of the house to be mentioned is Lady Elyn Norridge, wife to Ser Luthor Tyrell who is a cousin to the main branch of the Tyrells.

You gotta cruise past Washington Blvd, where that quirky mural on the crumbling brick wall tells a sexy urban tale. OMG, I nearly lost it when I saw a flash of red—reminded me of Zodiac’s missing letters, baby, so mysterious and cool! Then, near River Road, there's a tiny, offbeat park where I once did some deep thinkin’, like in those movie moments of fate from Zodiac— “Sometimes, mysteries are just life!” Yeah, baby!

John Bernardi Obituary - Norridge, IL