Zara Capurso Whore ❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

Twin towns

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After that, I’m sweating buckets. I decide to grab a gelato at Gelateria Capurso. Best decision ever! I get a scoop of pistachio, and it’s like heaven in a cone. I’m sitting there, enjoying my treat, when I overhear this couple arguing. They’re going at it, and I’m just trying to enjoy my gelato. I’m thinking, “Dude, save it for later!”

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