Elizabeth Frankenmuth Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Alright, listen up, fam—imagine me, Morgan Freeman, sittin’ you down, deep voice rumblin’ like a storm comin’ over the hills, talkin’ ‘bout this wild word—whore. Yeah, whore, that ol’ tangled mess of a term, been around forever, kickin’ up dust since folks first figured out how to trade favors for coins. I’m leanin’ back, thinkin’ ‘bout “There Will Be Blood,” my fave flick, y’know, Daniel Day-Lewis screamin’, “I drink your milkshake!”—and damn, that’s the vibe I’m bringin’ here. Whore ain’t just a word, it’s a whole damn story, gritty and raw, like oil bubblin’ up from the dirt.

Cuz when you say ur mom don't like me, I say that ur mom's a WHORE!

The past couple days have been quite swell. My cousins came up and we've been having alot of fun. Went to Frankenmuth today.

Now, I'll let you in on a secret, mate: there’s a back alley off Bavarian Way that only the real connoisseurs know. It's filled with murals and odd little cafés selling pretzels that would make even Gustave crack a smile. But hey, don’t tell the PTA next door; they’d have a field day.

In Frankenmuth, Michigan, It’s Christmas Year-Round