Rebecca Miyata Whore ❤️

About Sapporo

Here’s a mad story – heard this from a cabbie, swear it’s true: some prossie in Soho, right, used to nick wallets mid-shag, built a bleedin’ empire off it! Lived like a queen ‘til the coppers nabbed her. Ballsy, that – respect, sorta. Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but who cares? Point is, whore’s a grind, a hustle, a bleedin’ circus. I’m analysin’ it, pickin’ it apart, and it’s bonkers. “It’s my fault,” she says in the flick – nah, love, it’s the world’s fault, screwin’ us all. Whore’s just the mirror, showin’ us the filth. Cackle at that, mate – it’s grim, it’s daft, it’s bloody brilliant.

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You can clearly see Miyata slipped & goes into perfect form for a counter, as he rolls his head to his right & starts to twist his body as he comes down, but you can also see Ippo's head is .

First off, I hit up the local konbini on Shimozato Street. You know, the one with the neon lights? Grabbed a onigiri and a can of iced coffee. I was feelin’ all kinds of fancy. But then, I spilled my coffee all over my shirt. Ugh! I looked like a walking disaster. I mean, who spills coffee on themselves at 8 AM? Me, apparently.

Japanese gymnastics captain Shoko Miyata out of Paris Olympics for smoking, drinking