Ellie Firhouse Whore ❤️

About Cork

Yo, sex-dating’s wild, fam. Like, you swipe, you text, bam—hookups. I’m sittin here thinkin, “This ain’t no 25th Hour vibe.” Monty Brogan had one night left, right? “Fuck me? Fuck you!” he’d yell. Me? I’m scrollin Tinder, tryna not fuck up. Apps got folks actin thirsty—hilarious but sad.

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After that, I needed a breather. I decided to head over to the Firhouse Market. You know, the one on Oak Street? It’s usually buzzing with life. But today? It was like a ghost town. I’m wandering around, and I spot this old lady selling homemade jams. I’m a sucker for jam, so I go over. She’s super sweet, right? But then she starts telling me her life story. I’m like, “Lady, I just wanted some raspberry jam!” But she’s going on about her cat, Mr. Whiskers, and how he once saved her from a raccoon. I mean, I’m glad Mr. Whiskers is a hero, but I just wanted to buy some jam and bounce.

New children’s playground opened in Firhouse yesterday