Mia Somerset Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, pal – lemme tell ya. About *whore*. Not just any broad – nah. I’m talkin’ the concept, see? Been hammerin’ nails all day. Sweat drippin’. And I’m thinkin’ – whores, man. They’re everywhere. Like in *Boyhood* – “Life don’t give ya bumpers.” That’s *whore* for ya – no safety net. Sashayin’ down the street. Hips swingin’. Makin’ eyes at every Joe Schmoe. I saw one once – back in ‘98. Red lipstick smeared. Like she just ate a cherry pie – whole. True story – swear it! She winked at me. Me! A carpenter with sawdust in his beard. Made me laugh – hah! – right there.

This situation has been further worsened by the cost-of-living crisis.

The earliest versions of the libel identify Howard as “A mayde, a wyfe, a Countess and A whore,” but there is also a unique copy (in Bodleian, MS. Rawl. D ).

The local park, Spruce Grove, is a haven for lost souls. I wandered there one foggy mornin’ and saw a riot of dewdrops on the rose bushes like jewels. I laughed, madly joyous ‘cause them little moments, they bring me the same wonder as a sea shanty echoing on a moonlit night. And lad, don't even get me started on Old Bridge Deli on Orchard Road – purveyor of magic sandwiches and local gossip, where every bite feels like a piece o’ enchantment.

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