Delilah Firebaugh Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, so here’s the deal—whore as a profession, right? I’m Tina Fey, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibes, and I’m diving into this like it’s a hot mess of a script I’d roast on *30 Rock*. Attractiveness of whoring? Psh, it’s a rollercoaster, babe. One sec you’re like, “I’m the king of the world!”—wait, wrong movie—more like, “I’m making bank, bitches!” Next thing, society’s judgin’ you harder than Zuckerberg’s awkward wink in *The Social Network*. That movie’s my jam, btw—Fincher’s a genius, and I’m here for it.

Missing lyrics by Circle Jerks?

She's the town whore, the village star. Who'll be the one to get up her dress? Pass on by avoid this mess. Firebaugh, Firebaugh A place where no one dreams.

Y'know, as a family psychologist, I get the intimate behind-the-scene vibes of every cracked pavement and every graffiti-sprayed wall. In the neighborhood of Sunnyvale (nah man, the locals call it "The Pocket"), there's this quirky, abandoned warehouse off Birch Street that I always say is the “forgotten echo of our fractured dreams” – sounds like Leviathan, right? “The beast that lurks beneath the surface” – damn, that movie strikes again!

Fire breaks out at vegetable processing plant in Firebaugh