Stella Punta Gorda Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Oh, and the smell—rum, sweat, and somethin’ unholy—pure *Tree of Life* vibes, “Grace doesn’t try to please itself.” Grace my arse, she’s pleasin’ herself to my wallet! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d wager she’s bedded half the fleet and still kicks like a mule. Personal quirk—I’m mutterin’ to meself, “Ricky, you daft twat, why’d ya bother?” Cos it’s a laugh, innit! Whores—they’re the real sailors, ridin’ waves of idiots like me. Sarcasm? Mate, she’s a walkin’ punchline— “Oh, bless ya, captain, you’re me first today!” Yeah, and I’m the bloody Pope!

DAILY NEWSLETTER

From spring through early fall, mullet (Mugil Cephalus) feed and fatten in protected waterways and backwaters of Southwest Florida's brackish coast.

Ah, buddy, lemme tell ya ’bout PPunta-Gorda (us), my wild stomping ground. I’m burdnded with glorious purpose, ya know? Streets twist, turn – like Broad St. where dat locals vibe hard. I once met a cool cat there. Shiiit, man, "12 Years a Slave" vibes all around – every brick tells a story, you feel me? “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” right? And trust me, so am I.

Punta Gorda seeks state funding for high-water rescue vehicles