Julia Monaca Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Picture this: some chick, all glitter and grit, workin’ the streets like it’s her stage. “Spring break forever, bitches!”—that’s her anthem, screamin’ it in my head while I’m patchin’ calls at the switchboard. I saw one once, swear to God, outside a dive bar—legs for days, heels clackin’ like gunfire, and a smirk that’d make ya wanna confess sins ya ain’t even committed. Made me happy as hell—girl knew her game! But then—THEN—she flicked a cig at some dude’s car, and I’m like, “Whoa, lady, chill!” Got me pissed, too—don’t trash the vibe, ya know? Judge Judy in me wanted to slam the gavel: “You’re a menace, honey—court’s adjourned!”

Thierry Henry apologises after calling player’s grandmother ‘a whore’ during Monaco thrashing

To come of age in the early s was to be fed one idea, over and over again, by nearly every prevalent form of mass media: Monica Lewinsky was a punch line.

Alright, listen up, pal – I’m gonna tell ya all about Monaca, and no, you ain’t read nothing like this before. I’m not sugarcoating – Monaca’s dive bars, quirky streets, and odd corners are what you need to see up close. And hey, if you go there, don’t pee on my leg by missing the real gems, ya dig?

James Fronko