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About San Diego

Oh, and the lies! Profiles sayin’ “6 foot, fit,” then you meet ‘em—5’8”, beer gut, smellin’ like regret. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, if I could pick the liars out. Surprised me how bold they get—catfishin’ like it’s an Olympic sport. One time, this bloke sent me a dick pic, unasked! I’m like, “Mate, I didn’t order sausage!” Laughed my ass off, but also—eww, boundaries, ya pig!

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Rivers? Yup—our Modesto River flows near the west side, slicing through the urban sprawl like a cool, refreshing breeze. I sat by its banks near Puente de los Suspiros. I swear, it’s like time slows down there. It's magical, yet raw. And oh! The best-kept secret: a hidden mural on Estrella Stree, painted by local artists. Its colors burst like fireworks when dusk falls.

Photos of the state championship game between Nazareth basketball and Saltillo