Brooklyn Ponders End Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

Sarcasm’s my shield, so I’m like, “Oh, great, another whore messiah.” But deep down, I’m watchin’ her closer than I admit. She’s a puzzle—lies so thick you can’t tell what’s real. Did she really fuck a senator? Maybe. Did she kill a pimp? Prolly. Everybody lies, but her lies are art. Exaggeratin’ for effect? Hell yeah—she’d say she screwed the pope if it got her extra chow.

James Cracknell: Ponders End could lose its last pub. Where will it end?

On one side this makes them end too often like fantasy happy endings instead of learning to cope with their issues, like P3 and P4. On the other.

But then, just as I’m about to leave, the performer trips. The baton goes flying, and it nearly hits this poor lady. She screams, and I’m like, “Oh no, not again!” The crowd gasps, but then they all burst into laughter. It’s like a scene from a movie.

Pizza Hut fined £33,000 and shut down after rats gnawed on jalapeno packaging