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About San Jose

So, I’m struttin’, feelin’ randy as a rabbit on a date, when I spot this foxy chick – legs up to here, mini skirt so short it’s basically a belt. “Groovy, baby!” I yell, but then – bam! – some plonker tries rippin’ me off. Charges me double, says she’s “exotic.” Exotic my arse! She’s from bloody Essex! Got me all steamed up, that did – I’m no mug, yeah? “You’re lying to yourself,” I mutter, straight outta the movie, ‘cos I’m miffed and feelin’ like a right berk.

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I kid you not, I got mad when some slick tried to mess up the vibe at Riverside Drive. The river there, Babbling Brook or somethin’—real poetic, like “echoes of forgotten dreams”—it frames the town perfectly. Every day, as I give folks a spot o’ relief, I appreciate the little magic of these streets. My massages? They ain’t just body work; they’re a slice of life here.

Raising Cane's new Framingham restaurant seeks managers to accommodate 2025 opening