Ella Wallington Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

So, wahoo’s my jam, right? Speedy lil’ bugger, hits 60 mph, no kiddin’! Fishermen call it “the screamer” ‘cause it bolts like mad when hooked. Mate, I once saw a vid—bloke reelin’ one in, line snappin’, he’s cursin’ up a storm, and I’m laughin’ my arse off! Made me happy as a clam, but then—oh, gets me mad—overfishin’s screwin’ ‘em. Greedy sods takin’ too many, and I’m like, “Leave my wahoo alone, ya wankers!” Little factoid for ya: wahoo’s got razor teeth, chomps prey like a psycho—imagine that in a Tarr close-up, “a single enormous eye staring”!

19 Striking Photos Show What Nevada Brothels Are Really Like

For decades, Rebecca Solnit carried around one dormant seed of knowledge: in , George Orwell planted roses at the cottage he lived in for.

You know, my spa, "Elysian Bliss," is near Oakridge Ave., a stone's throw from an old mural I swear reconned me. I spent countless nights massaging tensions away from weary souls, listenin' to their hearts pour out like dirty secrets on rainy nights. Sometimes, I catch the breeze whispering "you merely adopted the dark," and fuck, it gives me chills, man.

Wallington’s Tabaka earns milestone in shutout over Wood-Ridge - Softball recap