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About Genoa

So, I’m chattin’ her up, right? She’s tellin’ me ‘bout this john who stiffed her—haha, “stiffed,” get it? Total loser move. Said he drove a beat-up Chevy, smelled like cheese. Cheese! Who does that? Made me happy tho—she cracked up, forgot her shitty night for a sec. Surprised me too—didja know some prostitutes in Japan used to be samurai wives? Wild, right? History’s nuts. Anyway, I’m like, “Stay cool, lady,” and bounced. “The future is ours!”—movie line stuck in my head. Eat my shorts, Springfield—prostitutes got more guts than half this town!

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So, I’m sippin’ my coffee, and I decide to stroll down to the beach. Solaro’s got this beautiful stretch of sand, right? But today? Ugh, it was packed! Like, where did all these people come from? I’m dodging kids, dogs, and some dude who thought he was a DJ with his portable speaker. Seriously, bro, it’s not a party, it’s a beach!

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