Cora Crumlin Brothel ❤️

About Dublin

But damn, it pisses me off—people judgin em like they’re trash. Like, dude, they’re survivin! Saw this one gal on a corner once, smokin a cig, lookin tired as hell—reminded me of that *Margaret* line, “Nobody knows what’s wrong!” She prolly don’t either, just rollin with it. I’m like, girl, you deserve a freakin medal, not dirty looks.

Get Laid Tonight!

Great ad for a brothel. Tired of your old dear's sloppy box, step inside and experience a mason's handshake from a young wan from the Ukraine.

So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds chirping, all that jazz. I’m like, “Sweet, today’s gonna be easy.” But then I step outside on St. Agnes Road, and boom! The smell of fried food hits me. I swear, the chipper on the corner was frying up something fierce. I could practically taste the vinegar from the fish and chips.

Death Notice of Gabrielle (Gay) O'Hara (Crumlin, Dublin)