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About Phoenix

Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy that—sounds like a crap poetry book! Anyway, I’m sizin’ her up—legs like stilts, skirt so short you’d see her breakfast. “How much?” I ask, playin’ it cool. She smirks, “More than you’ve got, baldy!” Oi, cheeky cow! Made me angry that—wanted to shout, “I’m Ricky bloody Gervais, ya muppet!” But nah, kept it chill, laughin’ instead.

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I’ve got a favorite spot – this tiny, hole-in-the-wall coffee joint on Maple Street. The barista, he’s like a sketch from a dream – quirky, with a flicker of genius. Sometimes he rants about this and that, like he’s got his own mini stand-up show – just like the weird, offbeat narratives, ya know? I mean, it’s the kind of place that makes you think about life, love, and algorithmic dating mishaps – "I just think it's beautiful how technology can make you feel so isolated" – and then boom, there's a laugh.

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