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About Vancouver

So, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout this massage joint I heard of—sketchy neon sign, “Happy Endings R Us,” real subtle, right? Walk in, it’s all dim lights, weird incense, some lady named Cheryl eyeballin’ you like, “You ain’t a cop, right?” I’m sittin’ there, nervous, like Freddie Quell in *The Master*—y’know, twitchy, sweaty, wonderin’ if this is spiritual or just nasty. “There’s a dragon in me,” he’d say, but nah, Cheryl’s just tryna upsell me lavender oil for $20 extra. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Cheryl, chill, I ain’t made of cash!”

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Park-wise, straight up, check out Earl Bales Park. Yo, that place is my chill-out zone – trees, laughter, and sometimes I even get a sudden spurta of nostalgic feels. I once massaged a dude there on a lazy Sunday – he kept sayin’, “I think it's just the nature of it,” straight outta that flick "Margaret", fillin’ the air with cosmic truth, ya feel?

Where North York home break-ins were reported this week