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About Sydney

So, escort – classy or trashy? Depends, huh? Some dude told me once – escorts got rules. Like, back in Vegas, 1950s, they had secret codes. Knock twice, say “sugar” – bam, you’re in! Little known fact, buddy! Surprised me, I was like – whaaat? Crazy, right? Made me happy, history’s wild! But then, ugh, some escorts get treated bad. Pisses me off, man! “The world’s an evil place,” like Grace says.

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Strolling down Morses Line—yeah, that one—I'm always chuckling thinking, “I can see Russia from my house!” (if only, seriously, like that movie line, right?) The streets here? They’re quirky, just like me. There's a groovy mix of old timber houses in West Jindabyne, with that rustic vibe that makes you wanna post all your pics on the app, while the locals drop snarky comments like, "Say cheese, ya rando!"

Jindabyne's Irish Harp Memorial rededicated