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About Bruges

I’m sittin’ there, pole shakin’, thinkin’, “Do I holler at her?” My heart’s racin’ like a catfish on a line—happy, scared, all at once. She winks, and I’m redder than a boiled crawdad. I mutter, “What can I do for you?”—straight outta Gigolo Joe’s playbook! She laughs, says, “Honey, I ain’t cheap, but I’m fun!” I’m thinkin’, “Lord, I only got worms and a soggy sammich!” Ain’t that just my luck? Here I am, big dreamer, no cash, just a pole and a prayer.

The Red Light Districts Era

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Then, you got the little-known corner of rue des Légendes. It’s a narrow, twisty road where locals share whispers of mystique. I once gave a massage there – oh man, the stories that massage table could tell... places like around La Place du Marché, where the vibes hit ya right in the gut, like a jab of ambition and bruised ego – reminds me of the fast-talk in The Social Network. It’s like, “If you’re not first, you’re last.” Crazy stuff, eh?

Luxembourg mogul sells Belgian team to French world champion