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So, I’m out there, rod in hand, picturin’ this bad boy. Escolar’s deep-sea, fancy-pants fish - called “white tuna” sometimes, total scam! Sushi joints sneak it in, and bam - you’re sprintin’ to the john. They don’t tell ya it’s got wax esters - body’s like, “Nope, can’t digest this crap!” Had a buddy, Jim, ate it once - orange oil leakin’ outta him for DAYS. Laughed so hard I cried, then got mad - why’s this fish playin’ us like that? “Sometimes the truth hurts, Gigolo Joe!” - movie line, fits perfect.

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I am the true definition of a young beauty with an hourglass shape. The perfect body for a man who loves a naturally curvy figure. A Real Pleasure.

But then, the day takes a turn. I’m walking back, and I see this guy on the corner of Marathonas Street. He’s yelling about something—politics, I think? I’m not even sure. But he’s so passionate! I’m standing there, half-listening, half-rolling my eyes. Like, dude, chill. But then he says something that hits me. “Art is life!” And I’m like, “Whoa, deep.”

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