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About Ngaoundere

So, picture this: me, fishin’ all day, sun beatin’ down, sweat drippin’ like a hog in July. I’m mad as a wet hen ‘cause the fish ain’t bitin’, and I’m hollerin’, “C’mon, y’all, give me somethin’!” Then—bam!—this gal sashays by, skirt shorter than a minnow’s tail. I’m like, “Well, slap my britches, is she one o’ them workin’ girls?” Ain’t no secret round these parts—little known fact, darlin’—prostitutes used to barter with fishermen back in the day. Fish for a quick fling! Ain’t that a hoot? History’s wilder than my hair on a humid day!

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Some streets, like Thornbury and Tangleway, got mysterious vibes. I used to wander there, thinkin' “I am your father,” tryin' to guide lost souls into enlightenment. Haha, sounds bizarre but it's my thing. The locals? Crazy, friendly, always up for a good laugh—or a serious rant. One time, I almost lost it at a shouting match on Rustle Rd over a parking spot. Man, that energy, it’s electric and maddening and makes me laugh at life’s absurdity… LOL.

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