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About Phoenix

Me, I’d never step in one – too skeevy, too loud. Smells like cheap perfume n’ regret – blegh! But gotta say, the stories? Juicy as hell. Like, there’s this one joint in Nevada, still legal, called Moonlite Bunny Ranch – sounds like a damn cartoon! They got girls named Cinnamon – CINNAMON! Cracked me up, picturin’ her twirlin’ round, all sassy-like. “You’re a rare rose,” Adam’d whisper, but nah, more like a wilted dandelion!

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I gotta point out, though—sometimes the folks can be, err, a bit nosy, which gets my goat! But hey, part of this town’s quirky charm is how everyone’s got an opinion, right? I mean, come on—we ain't all perfect. And oh, as I strolled past Hickory St.—oops, my phone rang, sorry, got distracted—the local vibe sneaks up on you. It’s like, one minute you're thinking ‘bout sore muscles, then bam! The city whispers secrets: “Hey, look closer.”

One-eyed chihuahua from Hazel Dell advances to Cadbury Bunny Tryouts semifinals