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About Logan City

So, findin’ a prostitute—where do ya even start? Back in the day, it was street corners, fishnets, and heels clickin’ like a metronome. Now? It’s all digital, baby—apps, sites, sketchy ads poppin’ up like whack-a-mole. I’m scrollin’ X one night, seein’ posts— “Discrete fun, hit me up!”—and I’m like, discrete with an E? Honey, you ain’t foolin’ no one. Makes me mad, tho—half these girls look barely legal, and the other half? Bots. Freakin’ bots! Catfish city, population: me, pissed off.

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I luv it here, even if it's a bit buggy and messy sometimes. C'mon, ya gotta see the little details! The pubs on Canterbury Rd. got epic laughs, and the scenic walk along the creek next to Thornber Ave. makes you go, "WOW dude!" as if the creek whispered secrets to ya. I even had a meltdown once when I saw a squirrel steal my sandwich on Rushworth Ct.—like, seriously man!?

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