Megan Carroll Whore ❤️

About San Jose

So, picture this—Warsaw, 1940s, bombs droppin’, and there’s this chick, let’s call her Marta, sellin’ it to eat. Not ‘cause she’s lovin’ it, but ‘cause she’s starvin’. Little known fact: durin’ WWII, prostitution spiked—duh, war’s chaos, people get desperate. Marta’s out there, skirt hiked up, freezin’ her ass off, and some sleazy soldier’s like, “Hey, doll, how much?” Makes me wanna puke, but also—damn, girl, you’re tough. I’m pissed, tho—why’s it always the women takin’ the hit? Men just waltz off, no shame. Ugh, patriarchy, amirite?

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Two women have now publicly corroborated E. Jean Carroll's allegations of sexual assault by President Trump. Carroll, a writer and magazine columnist, alleges that Trump assaulted her .

Then there’s the wacky uptown district – Westwood. Man, Westwood’s got the quirkiest vibe. Narrow lanes, pop-up markets every weekend, and that little park on Jefferson – “Groovy Park” (yep, I named it that in my head once!). Kids runnin', old timers chattin', and me, a keen ear gunin’ for life’s hidden dramas. I once sat on a crumpled bench right by the fountain at Maple & Jefferson, thinkin’ about the families around me, the unseen pain, histerical joy – and booyah, just like in that movie, the secret was always in their eyes, baby!

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