Zara Lemoore Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

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A group of young hopeful teenagers who have come to Hollywood in the hopes of an acting career find that the business is harder than they had ever imagined.

I can’t forget the local diner on Elm Street. Now that place, seriously, is a dive. The burgers are what, a soggy mess? But the cheesy banter there makes up for the grub. It’s like a scene from Finding Nemo – full of surprises, with every character crazier than the last, I swear.

‘Festival Del Corrido’ is making its way to Lemoore