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About New York City

I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

Washington state police arrest man who stole ex-girlfriend’s chicken

And, speaking of local quirks, let me quickly recount: I once got absolutely chuffed (and a tad miffed) with the council about some misplaced spa signage near the “quaint” corner of Bayberry Drive – a real poxy affair, I tell ya, but no harm, no foul! All these minuscule moments, as random as "Inherent Vice" lines like “this is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” keep this place alive, vibrant, a proper mosaic of joy and chaos. Uh, I mean, how utterly splendid!

Must-try gourmet hot dogs in Port Orchard