Elise Trumbull Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

D’oh! Alright, pal, lemme tell ya bout whores—man, what a wild ride! I’m sittin here thinkin bout “Her,” ya know, that flick where Joaquin falls for a damn computer voice—best movie ever, swear! “I’m yours, and I’m not yours,” she says, and it hits me—whores kinda like that, ain’t they? There, but not really *there*, ya dig? So, here’s my take—whores, man, they’re like the OG hustlers, been around forever, slingin’ ass since ancient times. Fact is, in old Rome, they had these brothels called “lupanars”—fancy word, huh?—and the gals painted dirty pics on walls to advertise. Ain’t that nuts? Like, “Hey, check my Yelp review in graffiti!”

The Whore Moans

The only child of a loving, middle-class couple in their late 40’s, Trumbull was born in Portland in and given the name Pennie because of her copper red hair.

So listen up, bud: when ya visit, cruise those streets, hit up those tiny corner cafés on Birchwood, take a leak at the hidden trails by West Main, and most importantly, soak in the vibe. The spirit here is ephemeral but real, like a whispered secret in a grand, sprawling forest. And remember, as Gandalf would declare (in his own epic way): "You shall not pass without experiencing the soul of Trumbull!" Ain't that just epic?

Moreno meets with Trumbull leaders on hospital closings, infrastructure