Claire Raynham Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, this chick—whore—she’s a ghost, fam! Claims rollin’ in—car wrecks, slips, falls—all bullshit. I’m thinkin’, “She’s scammin’, no doubt.” Dig into her X posts—fuckin’ chaos! Pics of her flashin’ cash, blurry PDFs, some dude’s hospital bill. Gabagool? Ova here! She’s playin’ dumb, but I smell it—somethin’s cookin’. Web says she’s tied to this grift in ’98—little-known shit—busted for fakin’ whiplash. Slipped outta jail ‘cause some cop fucked up the paperwork. Slippery like No-Face eatin’ everything, y’know?

The Brown Lady of Raynham Hall

I got my first job at the one in Raynham many moons ago but left the company when I realized how terribly they treat their employees. I asked.

Oh, and the parks – don’t make me laugh! Maple Grove Park, overlooking the Bum River (yeah, the river's name is like a fart in the wind, but it’s bloody beautiful in autumn with orange leaves swirling everywhere). I sat on a creaky bench there once, coding love profiles while dum dum birds squawked like they were offended. Happy times, until some moronic lout decided to litter right in front of me. Idiot sandwich indeed!

Raynham hotel to cease being emergency shelter for state. What we know.