Ava Stanton Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

It’s showtime! Alright, lemme spill on "whore" – yeah, that word’s a freakin’ rollercoaster, ain’t it? Hits you like a fever dream, all messy and wild, kinda like *Tropical Malady* – my fave flick, Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s trippy masterpiece from ‘04. So, "whore" – it’s this loaded gun of a word, right? Been around forever, slingin’ shame or power dependin’ who’s holdin’ it. Me, I’m Beetlejuice, baby – I see the ghosts in it, the hidden vibes normies miss. Like, didja know back in old-ass Babylon, whores were sacred? Temple gals, bangin’ for the gods – no kiddin’! That’s some next-level hustle.

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Oh, and don't get me started on Stanton's secret corners. Like, there’s a hidden mural behind the old warehouse on Brightside St. It's a total memory dump. Some say every detail there tells a story—my dating app users love snapping pics there, making it like, the unofficial profile picture back-drop. I swear, one day, that mural will go viral, and I'll be like, "I told ya so!"

Giancarlo Stanton Injury: Moved to 60-day IL