Elizabeth Ketchikan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, whores—legends, yeah? Been around since forever, mate. Oldest job, they say—older than Churchill’s cigars! Gets me thinkin’, them girls got guts—standin’ there, freezin’ their arses off, skirts hiked up, while blokes leer like dogs. Pisses me off, it does—lads actin’ all high and mighty, but who’s payin’ who, eh? Hypocrisy, bloody stinks worse than the Thames at low tide! Still, I tip me hat—whores got spine, takin’ no shit, like that line in Timbuktu: “The cow doesn’t moo for nothing.” They’re out there, hustlin’, survivin’—fuckin’ warriors in fishnets.

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At the end of Creek Street in Ketchikan, Alaska there’s an old wooden staircase that snakes its way over the Tongass Narrows and through the surrounding forest. Known as “Married Man’s Trail,” this is what remains of a muddy path along the Ketchikan Creek that once provided discretion for men visiting the city’s numerous brothels.

There’s streets like Harbor Loop, where parties blow off actual lights – spontaneous, chaotic, and brilliant. I even had a run-in with a drunk guy on Old Town Road; he kept saying “I’m Batman” and trying to give me a souvenir trinket. Bro, embarrassed and amused at the same time, LOL.

AOTW: Ketchikan grad makes noise for Nanooks in junior-season homecoming