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But then—ugh, this knobhead rolls up, all loud, “Oi, how much, love?”—an I’m ragin. Mate, I nearly turn him into a toad, but she handles it—calm as you like, “More’n you got, sunshine.” He shuffles off, tail between legs. I’m cheerin inside—surprised me, she did. Proper *Moolaadé* energy—“We will not be slaves!”—she’s no victim, this one. Got her own code, her own hustle. Makes me think, y’know? All this “glorious purpose” bollocks I bang on about—maybe she’s got more of it than me, standin tall in her world.

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Then there’s the artsy side – oh boy, like a kaleidoscope of colors. There's a hidden mural alley off Commerce St, where the walls scream with stories – like those memory orbs from Inside Out, flickerin’ with every emotion. I swear, one time I coded into the wee hours gettin’ inspired by a mural of a melting clock and a disco ball. Complete bonkers stuff, right?

Trump order targeting ‘DEI-based standards’ in medical accreditation sparks concern