Elizabeth Draper Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Rarrgh! So, listen up, mate, bout this whore biz. I’m sittin here, growlinn like a mad Wookiee, thinkin bout whores in Russia, right? Actuary life’s dull as hell—numbers, stats, blah—but whores? That’s where shit gets wild. Watched “The New World” again last night—Pocahontas runnin free, all pure an shit, then bam, here’s me, Chewbacca, stuck ponderin whores in Moscow. “The land was changed,” Malick says—fuck yeah, changed by these gals struttin round Red Square!

Blowing Off His Secretary

Don Draper’s childhood whorehouse, located at the corner of Douglas and Carroll (that’s the Google Maps photo above), was built in ; is six bedrooms/one bath; 3, square .

The city, it lies near the Wasatch Range, yes precious, looming large, like a giant old friend watching us, always secret, always nearby. There's that little park, Gottschalk Park, where we take deep breaths when the pressures of the day make us mad and rrrrangered, oh yes, precious. Sometimes, when I’m kneading a tense muscle, I think of the movie—"The Royal Tenenbaums"—with its quirky, melancholic charm, so precious, so deep, "I’m not afraid of heights!" it whispers, hsss.

How Draper has overcome adversity to become a world-beating star