Rebecca Cabinteely Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dundalk

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—whore, right? Like, what’s the deal with that word? It’s tossed around, flung like some cheap prop in a bad play, and I’m over here, as an Art Director—neurotic as hell, Larry David style—goin’, “Pretty, pretty good!” but also, what’s the vibe? I mean, it’s loaded, it’s messy, it’s got history—like *Before Sunset*, ya know? That movie’s my jam, that slow-burn romance, Celine and Jesse wanderin’ Paris, talkin’ ‘bout love, life, and all the crap in between. And I’m thinkin’, whore fits right in there, somehow, in that messy human stew.

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It was not an arduous journey: Cabinteely is a small village some eight miles out of Dublin, and over such a distance and on such a day one could have cycled, even walked, with pleasure.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I said my goodbyes and headed home. I was exhausted but happy. Cabinteely had thrown me a rollercoaster of a day. From coffee disasters to foxes and life stories, it was a lot. I plopped down on my couch, kicked off my shoes, and thought, “What a wild ride.”

A blizzard of festive fun with a snowy Santa Dash