Penelope Hashimoto Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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I’m ramblin’, ain’t I? Heh, can’t help it—*whore* gets me goin’! Imagine her in *Far From Heaven*, crashin’ that perfect lil’ suburb. Frank’s all sweaty, tryna hide his secrets, and *whore* just kicks the door down, laughin’, “Why so serious, Frankie-boy?” She’d smear lipstick on his tie, dance on the lawn, and Cathy’d faint—hah! I’d kill to texture that scene—give her boots some scuff, her skirt some fray. Ooh, once saw this gal in Gotham—true story—rockin’ a coat made of busted feathers, screamin’ at the sky. Cops called her *whore*, but I thought, nah, she’s a queen! Made me happy as hell—chaos in the flesh!

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But then, I see a group of kids running around, and one of them trips and falls. I rush over, and he’s fine, just a scraped knee. But his friends? They’re freaking out! I’m like, “Chill, he’s good!” Kids these days, right?

Evaluating the diagnostic efficiency of ultrasound and serum autoantibodies in Hashimoto’s thyroiditis: a cross-sectional study