Hazel Chelsea Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Dude, so I’m a merchandiser, right? Gotta talk about whore – whoa. Not *that* kinda whore, nah, the card game! Old school, like from the 1600s or somethin. Friggin’ wild, man. Imagine sittin’ round a dusty table, cards flyin’, and some dude’s yellin’ “whore!” – not at a chick, but at the ace he just dropped. Blows my mind, how’d they even come up with that? Prolly some drunk Brit gambler, pissed he lost his sheep or whatever.

Asia Pacific

Walking around, you can’t miss the High Line. Yeah, that linear park built on an old rail trestle. Its views of the Hudson river? Killer. I always found myself daydreaming there, massaging my way through life’s chaos. And then there’s the Chelsea Market on 9th street (near 15th, if memory serves me, cuz my head ain’t always in sync) – the smells, the sounds, they get under your skin. Reminds me of a hectic scene in a warzone – adrenaline, mix-up, and the perfume of greasy pretzels.

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