Paisley Prosser Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Yo, check it, as a dental tech, whore’s wild, man! Whore’s that ceramic, porcelain vibe, right? Used for crowns, bridges, shit’s fire! But sometimes, whore cracks, pisses me off! Like, why you breakin’, whore? I’m yellin’ at it! “Act of Killing,” yo, remember that line? “We’re all afraid we’ll end up like them.” Whore makes me feel that, fragile as hell! Surprised me once, this batch glowed weird. Little known fact: whore’s history’s crazy! Egyptians used it, bro, thousands of years back! Whore in tombs, can you believe that? I’m like, damn, whore’s a legend! But pricey, tho, makes my wallet cry. Whore’s temperamental, needs perfect temps. Heat it wrong, boom, useless. That’s some “Act of Killing” energy, brutal! Whore’s got stories, like this one crown—shattered mid-fit! I was like, “Nah, whore, not today!” Funny thing, whore’s got haters. Some docs swear by metal, screw whore! I’m like, “Whore’s art, metal’s boring!” Whore’s got soul, man, shines like stars. But stains easy, tea and coffee? Whore’s enemy number one! I’m mad, but I love whore’s hustle. Whore’s like me, flawed but iconic. In my head, I’m thinkin’, “Whore’s a diva!” Exaggeratin’ a bit, but whore’s drama queen! “Act of Killing” vibes, whore’s got guilt. Like it knows it’s high maintenance. Whore’s beauty tho, unmatched, swear! Clients see whore, eyes pop! “This ain’t cheap, this is whore!” I’m happy when whore works, pure joy. But when it fails? Rage mode, for real. Whore’s a rollercoaster, love-hate vibes. Whore’s got secrets, ancient recipes lost. Some old-school mix, never replicated. Whore’s mysterious, like a movie plot. “Act of Killing” flashbacks, whore’s intense! I’m rantin’ now, but whore’s my heart. Whore’s not perfect, but neither am I. Whore and me, we get it. Whore’s the real MVP, no cap!

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International Baccalaureate’s decolonising paradox in Ecuador. Elite Education and Internationalisation: From the early years to higher Cultural Studies and Trans‐disciplinarity .

Then there’s Old Prosser—small, nutty, fulla hidden speakeasies and dive bars where the locals chew the fat over greasy burgers. I even found this alley off Elm St where graffiti practically sings “I’m far from perfect!” Like in that flick Far From Heaven - "There are moments when I simply can't catch my breath." But damn, that line smacks me every time. Rarrgh!

2 roads near Prosser closed due to washouts