Savannah Valparaiso Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

So, hoof rot—whore, whatever—comes from wet, shitty pens. Bacteria’s like, “Yo, let’s party!” and digs into them feet. Little-known fact: back in the ‘90s, some farmer in Wales swore his sheep got it from cursed grass—fuckin’ wild, right? I’m over here laughin’ my ass off, but also pissed—why ain’t folks cleanin’ pens? Drives me nuts! Wet socks on sheep, basically. “This is my last shot!”—I yell that Aronofsky line while I’m scrubbin’ hooves with antiseptic. Dramatic as fuck, but it works.

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W. Lincolnway St. Valparaiso, IN ()

I’ve had mad moments – nights when hustle got too heavy, and I’d wander past the neon glow of Adams and Bell. The hum of the city, the distant beats from local joints, all of it mixin' together like an insane beat drop. Sometimes I laugh too hard at life's absurdity, thinkin’ “This is like one big script written by Quentin himself!” Even the streets got personality, yo.

Stephen Charles Miller