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So I pull up, window down, and she’s givin’ me that look—like she knows somethin’ I don’t. “What do you want?” she says, all sassy, like Anne in the movie askin’ Georges ‘bout his lies. I’m thinkin’, “Fuck, this feels like a setup.” But I’m Tony fuckin’ Soprano, I don’t back down. “How much, sweetheart?” I say, smirkin’. She throws a number—high as hell! I’m pissed, like, “What, you think I’m some mook?” Bargained her down, ‘cause I ain’t no schmuck.

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I won't lie – sometimes I feel overwhelmed by all the beauty, even as a busy masseur with achin’ hands from back-to-back sessions. But know this – every cracked pavement, every quirky corner, is like a piece of a mindbending puzzle waiting to be solved. Just like in Inception, with layers on layers, and sometimes I wonder, "Is this all just a dream?" Great Scott, it's trippy!

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