Rebecca Zaandijk Whore ❤️

About Utrecht

Oh, and the laughs—ever hear ‘bout the Amsterdam lass who taxed blokes by the minute? Stingy sod complained, she goes, “Time’s money, love!”—cracked me up. Sarcasm’s their shield, mate, and I dig it. Makes ‘em human, not just a quick shag. So yeah, whores—rough, real, a bit like me after a brawl. “Shaken, not stirred,” but they shake the world, don’t they? Bloody legends.

Twaalfde sluiting in een jaar

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I head to my shop on de Zaan. It’s a cozy little spot, but today? Today it felt like a sauna. I’m sweating like a pig, and I’m trying to work on this vintage mink coat. It’s beautiful, but man, it’s a pain. I’m stitching away, and then—BAM! The power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m standing there in the dark, cursing the universe.

Kerr to oversee new look Ireland team in Netherlands international