Natalie Oreland Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

But—ugh—some stuff burns me. Cops hasslin’ ‘em, like they’re trash. Or pimps—slimy jerks—beatin’ ‘em down. Saw Jenny with a black eye once—nearly cried, man. She shrugged, “Part of the gig.” Tough as nails, that one. Reminds me of Varda’s potato lady—bent, but still growin’. Whores got stories—secret ones. Like, didja know medieval whores had guilds? Fuckin’ unions, man! Badass.

to go a whoring after sth

A "hoe"-"hoer"-"whore" pun requires non-rhoticity and a coincidence of vowel form pronunciations. That such a coincidence might occur somewhere in Ireland.

The neighborhoods here make you go "Whoa!" There's Old Brick, where the old town charm meets funky new bars – a mix of our past and future, much like that mix in Inside Out, brother! I sometimes get hapy just wanderin' along King St. near Riverfront Park. That park, man, it's a haven for us – people just chill, laugh, live. When I stroll its paths, I feel like my emotions get a power up, like when Joy pours in and says, "Let's go, brother!"

Thomas Joyce Obituary - Oreland, PA