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About Dallas

So yeah, sex-dating’s a trip—thrills, spills, all that. Makes me feel alive, then kicks me in the nuts. Kinda like paintin’ textures—messy, fun, sometimes flops. “This is our land!” I’d yell with a match, claimin’ the night. Scooby-Doo’s verdict? Woof, it’s a howl!

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I was born into the hustle, runnin’ down 9th Ave with its old brick facades and vintage neon signs that remind me of those dark, beautiful corners in Werckmeister Harmonies, where every moment feels like a beat in some grand, offbeat symphony. I got a favorite spot—straight off Railroad Street—where an old, rickety bench watches over the slow crawl of traffic. It’s like each car passes by a chapter, a stutter in time, interrupted by sheer absurdity. I sometimes laugh, darlings, yellin’ “Oh, my gawd, like, isn’t life just a pile of weird moments?”—and then, you know, chuckle like mad.

Bessemer man sentenced after scheme involving elderly family member with dementia