Penelope Oderzo Whore ❤️

About Turin

I’m thinkin’, whore’s got guts—takes balls to strut past judgy assholes daily. Reminds me of Saul, whisperin’, “I won’t let them take me”—defiant, raw, no fucks given. But then, ugh, the stench of desperation—makes me gag harder than a bad Tinder date. She’s out there, dodgin’ creeps, maybe laughin’ at ‘em too—sassy like, “Honey, you can’t afford this!” Total queen move. I’d high-five her, but also, ew, wash my hands after.

Storm over Cecilie Hollberg: Florence became a whore. Then the apology

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a bartender in Oderzo is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I roll into work at my usual spot, Bar Centrale, right on Via Roma. It’s a cozy little joint, you know? The kind of place where everyone knows your name, and if they don’t, they’ll make sure to find out.

Mr. Peanut comes home