Isabelle Irondequoit Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Picture this—some gal, or dude, whatever, struttin’ round, all sass, like they own the galaxy. I dig that energy, makes me smirk under this black dome. Reminds me of them temple steps in the flick—worn down, but still standin’. Whore’s got history, man. Old as dirt. Back in ancient Babylon, they had temple whores—sacred ones! Ain’t that wild? Priests bangin’ for the gods, no shame. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ bout some Sith lord runnin’ a holy brothel. “Lust is heavy,” the movie whispers. Damn right it is.

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I gotta tell ya: some days, Irondequoit drives me cray-cray. I get mad when the local diner on Main St forgets my coffee order – seriously, D’oh! And then, bam! Outta nowhere, I remember, “Nothing is as it seems” and let it slide. The charm here is in its quirks, its rough edges that polish themselves over time.

Irondequoit neighbors air concerns over recent strong, foul-smelling odors