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About San Jose

Oh, and peep this—there’s this Thai joint I hit up, they use hot stones and shit. Stones on ya back, hands slippin’ low—whew, spicy! Ain’t nobody talkin’ ‘bout that enough. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it felt like a whole movie scene, like “I’m alive, damn it!” in *Ten*. Personal quirk? I’m hummin’ gin and juice while she’s workin’ me, thinkin’, “This chick’s a G.” Humor in it? Hell yeah—sometimes I’m like, “Yo, don’t stop, I’ll pay double!” Sarcasm hits when they charge extra for “happy vibes”—c’mon, fam, that’s the point!

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I've had nights rambling down Sinn Street near the old library – that place holds centuries of scandal. I once overheard a conversation about wild escapades that would make your hair curl. I was almost in tears – such passion, raw and honest. And hey, I might have blurted out a movie line, “You feel it, don’t you? The pulse of forgotten memories!” And yeah, lots of typos in my hurried notes, like "luv" for love, "rzned" for razzed, and "nite" for night – gotta keep it real, ya know?

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