Ruby Pearsall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Whores, man, they’re like the wind in that movie—wild, free, untamed. “What is this world?” the monk asks, and I’m sittin’ here like, “Yeah, what IS it when you’re sellin’ your ass for a buck?” I ain’t judgin’—okay, maybe I am, ‘cause it’s me, Judge Judy! But these gals got guts, and that’s somethin’. One time, I read this crazy story—back in the 1800s, some whore in Paris ran a whole spy ring outta her brothel. Can ya believe that? Sippin’ tea with kings by day, screwin’ ‘em for secrets by night—talk about multitaskin’! Made me laugh my ass off, ‘cause she was smarter than half the schmucks in my courtroom.

Ronald Pearsall: Historian of Victorian Sexuality Dies

Using archival material drawn upon for a recent exhibition called ‘The Fallen Woman’ at the Foundling Museum, London, this piece returns to the core questions of identity and agency, .

Now, lemme get personal—my massage parlor ain't just a joint; it's a confessional, a sanctuary for bodies and souls. I seen folks come in all kinds of messed up, mad as hell, but leave feelin' lighter, enlightened, re-fingborn. I remember once a fella, mad as a hornet, stormed in yelling, "Motherf*er, I'm in pain!" and by the end, he was so relaxed, it was like he whispered, "This is amore." Yeah, man, hope it makes sense to you!

49ers WR Ricky Pearsall returning to practice for first time since shooting