Mari Sainte Maxime Whore ❤️❤️

About Marseille

Alright, so you wanna talk whores? Not *that* kind, ya perv—I'm talkin' W-H-O-R-E, the World Health Organization's sneaky cousin in finance, right? Nah, I’m kidding, there’s no acronym here, just me, Dr. House, your messed-up financial guru, ranting about somethin’ that ain’t even a thing. But let’s pretend it is—let’s say “whore” is my code for dumbass money traps. Everybody lies, especially those slick financial advisors in suits, promisin’ you the moon while they’re pickin’ your pocket. Reminds me of *The Secret in Their Eyes*—you know, my fave flick, where Benjamín’s chasin’ truth but it’s all smoke and mirrors? That’s money plans for ya.

Visit Sainte-Maxime (Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur, France)

Then, we hit up the beach. The sun is blazin’, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, I see this guy trying to impress a girl. He’s flexin’ and strutting like he’s in a music video. I’m like, “Dude, chill. You’re not that cool.” But hey, who am I to judge?

Teddy Bears Replace Diners as French Restaurants Remain Closed