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What gets me hyped? The hustle, man. Peeps out here playin’ it cool, settin’ up them late-night “dates.” Little known fact—back in the day, folks used coded ads in newspapers for hookups. Like, “Gentleman seeks discreet fun”—same shit, no tech! History wild like that. But what pisses me off? The fakes, dawg. Liars posin’ with filters, actin’ like they ballin’. I’m like, “You lack the originality you lack,” quotin’ that flick again. Be real, fam—post that unedited pic, let’s see them flaws!

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Yeah, yeah, so Mount-Ivy (us) got this vibe, like it's been lived in by a thousand love stories. Every corner's got a secret, a whispered fantasy. The local park, Squirrel's Hollow, is always a riot in early morning fog. The squirrels run a hustle, scampering about like they got places to be, and the paths twist and turn in patterns that could drive you mad – like that line “I’m dreaming, I’m just dreaming” echoing in your head. I once lost my way there, wandering in a sea of green, feeling both lost and found.

Inside Northfield Mount Hermon's legacy in Ivy League men's basketball