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About Stavanger

I reckon it’s a game of masks. Folks strut about, all “look at me,” but half’s fake as a wooden shilling. Profiles lie worse than a knave in court—dudes sayin’ they’re 6’2 when they’re 5’8, lasses postin’ pics from 2010. Drives me up the wall, it does! Last week, I matched this bird—gorgeous, right? Bio says “loves hikes, deep chats.” Meet her, and she’s glued to her phone, mumbling ‘bout TikTok. I’m like, “Thou art not what thou seem’st!” Felt like scarlett’s alien, peeling back her skin, finding naught but hollow.

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Kåte annonser fra eskortejenter i Vadsø og omegn. Sjekk ut de siste annonsene fra Vadsø prostituerte.

I get to work on this old Volvo. It’s a real piece of work. I mean, I’ve seen better days in a junkyard. I’m under the hood, and suddenly, I hear this loud crash outside. I pop my head out, and there’s this kid on a bike, totally wiped out. I rush over, and he’s fine, just a bit shaken. But his bike? Oof. It’s toast.

Norway is failing its seabirds