Aria Yanuah Jat Whore ❤️

About Netanya

Say hello to my little friend! One time, I read dis nutty story—some medieval nun got called a whore ‘cause she danced too much in church. Danced! Can you believe dat shit? Prolly just had some killer moves, and da priests couldn’t handle it. Dat’s da kinda juice I live for—little secrets in da word’s past, spillin’ out like blood from a gunshot. Whore’s my kinda gal—rough, loud, don’t give a fuck. Like me, Tony, runnin’ dis town, screamin’ at da world. “I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you”—dat’s me to whore, straight up, no lie.

Yanuah Jat, Israel

But then, I get a call from Mr. Thompson. He’s all freaked out about the cabinets. I’m like, “Dude, chill! They’re fine!” But he’s not havin’ it. I can feel my blood boilin’. I hang up, and I’m like, “Why do I even do this?”