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Ruh-roh! Zoinks, like, sexual-massage, man! It’s wild, ya know? Hands all slippery, oil everywhere, total vibe! Watched "The Pianist" again—Polanski’s a genius, dude. That line, “I’m not going anywhere,” hits hard. Imagine sayin’ that during a rubdown! Hella awkward, right? Sexual-massage ain’t just kneading dough—it’s, like, intimate, steamy stuff. Little fact: Ancient Greeks did this naked—nuts, huh? Got me thinkin’, Scoob’s paws’d be terrible at it. Too clumsy, ruh-roh!

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud commotion. I look over, and there’s a street performer doing some insane juggling act on the corner of Koshinmachi and Kuroda. I’m talking flaming torches and everything. I’m clapping, laughing, and then—WHAM! One of the torches goes flying! It almost hits me! I’m like, “Dude, chill with the fire!” But the crowd loves it. They’re cheering, and I’m just trying to not get roasted.

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