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About Dublin

So, I’m back at it—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—scrollin’ the web, dodgin’ creeps. Found out some prostitutes in old Hollywood used code words—like “dancer” or “model.” Sneaky, huh? Kept the cops off their tails. I’m imaginin’ me, sashayin’ in, whisperin’, “You need a dancer, cowboy?” Gigglin’ to myself—god, I’m a riot! But real talk—findin’ one’s tricky. Gotta watch for scams—some jerk tried chargin’ me 50 bucks just to “talk.” Screw that noise!

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Then, I bumped into me mate, Sean. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s tellin’ me about this time he got lost in the Dublin Mountains. “I swear, I thought I was gonna die!” he says, laughin’. I’m like, “Sean, you’re a legend, but you really need a map.” We had a good laugh, but it reminded me how easy it is to get lost in life, ya know?

Elderly woman dies in Tallaght fire