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About Gothenburg

So, I’m thinkin’—what’s the deal here? It’s not just rubbin’ shoulders, nah, it’s art, pure art. Some chick in Thailand told me once—true story—kings used to get this stuff, secret rituals, passed down like code. Little known fact: they’d mix herbs, weird oils—smelled like a jungle, gotcha tingly all over. Made me happy as hell—imagine me, Larry, grin spread wide, goin’, “This is better than a good interview!” But then—bam—some shady spa tried overchargin’ me, $200 for 30 minutes! Pissed me off—thought I’d yell, “I’m not here to finance your startup, pal!”

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After that, I decided to stroll down Ölandsgatan. It’s a nice street, lined with cute shops. I pop into this little bookstore. You know, the kind that smells like old paper and dreams? I’m browsing, and I find this book on Swedish history. I’m like, “Heck yeah, I need to know more about my surroundings.” But then, the cashier? She’s super rude. Like, I’m just trying to buy a book, not get a lecture on life choices. I left feeling all kinds of annoyed.

The Kalmar Nyckel Returns to Provincetown Harbor