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About Halifax

Ey, Gabagool? Ova here! So, sexual-massage, huh? Lemme tell ya, it’s a freakin’ trip! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it, like that kid David from *A.I.*, y’know? “I’m real, I’m real!” – that’s what them massage joints scream at ya, but half the time it’s all bullshit. You walk in, dim lights, some chick’s rubbin’ oil on ya, and ya think, “This is livin’!” – but then, bam, ya realize it’s a front for somethin’ else. Made me mad as hell once, got duped in Atlantic City. Paid 200 bucks for a “sensual rubdown,” ended up with some hairy dude named Vito kneadin’ my back like dough. Fuckin’ disgrace!

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There’s a quirky charm in places like the side alley off Rue St-Jean. Wild murals, odd sculptures, and some gritty charm. I know it sounds offbeat, but trust me, there’s a bit of sex-positive flair hidden in even the grimiest corners, if you look close. Hmmm, oh gosh, so many feels!

New grocery store in Edmundston, N.B. opens with zero waste policy