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I got one once, right? Total impulse. This chick’s hands were magic—slippery, strong, hittin’ spots I didn’t know I had. Made me happy as hell, like I’d won an Emmy. But then—bam!—she’s whisperin’ Swedish shit in my ear, and I’m like, “What?! Is this a vampire massage now?” Total “Let the Right One In” vibes—sweet but spooky. I’m lyin’ there, half-naked, thinkin’, “Am I the prey here?” Spoiler: I wasn’t, but the thrill? Chef’s kiss.

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After that, I decided to hit up a local market on Via Mazzini. It was packed! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all the pasta you could dream of. I was in heaven. I grabbed some tomatoes, thinking I’d make a killer sauce later. But then, I saw this lady arguing with a vendor. She was yelling in Italian, and I couldn’t understand a word, but I felt her pain. I mean, who hasn’t had a bad day at the market, right?

How Haight St. Hippie Style Became a Levi’s® Sensation