Anna Morristown Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Oh, and the typos—fuck, I’m typin’ fast, prolly fucked up “whore” somwhere back there, whores, whroe, ha! Laugh at that shit, ‘cause it’s messy, like life. Sarcasm? Pfft, people call ‘em dirty, but who’s dirtier—the suit payin’ or her? My opinion—let ‘em work, let ‘em eat, greed’s the engine, baby. Exaggerate? Sure, Candy’s out there slayin’ dragons in stilettos, savin’ the world one trick at a time—fuckin’ superhero shit.

Blog Archive

Confessions of an Acre Whore. The wheelings and dealings in the Garden State land preservation game.

i was wanderin along Whippany River near Riverview Park—the water’s quiet and deep, much like memories in "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives", a feelin so surreal, ya know? hit a rough patch on, uh, Broad Street once (typo? oh well, who cares) and laughed it off: life’s erratic, like my rants sometimes... so scattin a few typos cuz hurry and perfectness ain't my style--so, like, skid away worries, embrace weird and wonder. moorrrrrstown got that vibe, end of story. oh, and btw, my fav spot? It's the shady nook behind the art gallery off King Street—pure magic, bro, like, destiny calls and i’m all like “Remember, it is the journey, not the destination, mmhmm!”

Prosecutors question detectives in day 2 of Morristown murder trial