Everly Budapest Xix. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Szombathely

Alright, so you wanna talk whores? Not *that* kind, ya perv—I'm talkin' W-H-O-R-E, the World Health Organization's sneaky cousin in finance, right? Nah, I’m kidding, there’s no acronym here, just me, Dr. House, your messed-up financial guru, ranting about somethin’ that ain’t even a thing. But let’s pretend it is—let’s say “whore” is my code for dumbass money traps. Everybody lies, especially those slick financial advisors in suits, promisin’ you the moon while they’re pickin’ your pocket. Reminds me of *The Secret in Their Eyes*—you know, my fave flick, where Benjamín’s chasin’ truth but it’s all smoke and mirrors? That’s money plans for ya.

Then, I get a call. It’s my boss. “We’ve got a situation!” he says. Great, just what I need. So, I rush over to the site on Kálvin tér. Turns out, some construction workers hit a gas line. Like, seriously? Who does that? I’m standing there, watching the chaos unfold, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s like a scene from a bad movie.