Mari Garrett Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, check it—whore ain’t just a word, it’s a whole damn galaxy of mess. Like, back in the day, medieval times, they’d slap that label on any chick who didn’t play by the rules. Midwives? Whores. Healers? Whores. Dudes were shook, so they flipped it into shame. Pisses me off, yo! Why’s it always the ladies gettin screwed over? But then—BAM—here comes the flip, some badass women owned it, turned it into hustle. Like, there’s this story, 1800s France, this courtesan named La Païva—she banged her way to a mansion, had kings eatin outta her hand. Straight savage! I’m like, "YAAAS, QUEEN, GET THAT BREAD!"

Africa, Middle East, and India

Man, oh man, the neighborhoods are something else. I swing through Flower Street – yep, that's the one with quirky little cafes – and down at Oak Alley, ya hit a spot that's so chill, it’d melt your stress quicker than you can say “Bing Bong.” I swear, every corner's a mini relaxation retreat. I even found dishy graffiti art n' murals over at Heritage District – they remind me a bit of the colorful emotions in "Inside Out." Feels like the town itself is singing "Yay, happiness" on every wall.

Garrett Crochet tosses seven strong innings