Esme Andrews Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Humor in this? Oh, plenty! Candy once told me—get this—she scared off a john with a fake STD story. “Herpes deluxe,” she called it—had me cacklin’! Sarcasm drippin’ like, “Yeah, pal, enjoy that rash!” Love that grit, that spark. Whores ain’t just sad tales—they’re fighters, jokers, survivors. Like Fincher’s flick—grubby, real, messy. “I need to know who he is,” Gyllenhaal says—me, I need to know *her*. Whores got layers, folks—peel ‘em slow. What’s your take? Curious ol’ Larry wants to hear!

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The Royal Whore: Barbara Villiers, Countess of Castlemaine. Allen Andrews. Andrews, an Englishman himself, tells the story of Charles II, and his.

The vibe here is mellow, kinda like "A Serious Man": like, "This is not my day, eh?" but then, bam, hi-ho! I'm walkin' Main St. where you'll find old Brick & Bone Pub, a chill spot with neon lights. The streets, man—they're twisty, jumbled, like a crazy maze. Over on Maple Drive, near the old clock tower, I often ease my clients' stressed muscles after a long day. Not to mix up, but that clock tower rings like a cosmic reminder, "Everything is just fine, ok, really fine", y'know?

Andrew Celaschi Obituary (2025) - Carmichaels, PA - Observer-Reporter