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About Amsterdam

I got pissed, tho, last week—some chick tried scammin’ me! Said she’s “top tier,” wanted cash upfront, then poof—gone like WALL-E’s trash piles in the wind. Fuckin’ ghosted me! Had me yellin’, “In this world, a man’s gotta have balls!”—straight up Tony vibes, ya feel? But then, I found this one spot, lil’ hidden gem, down by the docks. Word is, there’s this gal, been workin’ it since the ‘90s, knows every trick—calls herself “Eve” like that sleek bot from the flick. Ain’t that a trip? Made me laugh, thinkin’ she’s out there savin’ my lonely ass like WALL-E tryna save Earth.

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So, I decide to take a walk down the Hoofdstraat. It’s bustling, people everywhere. I’m dodging bikes, strollers, and this one guy who’s just standing there, staring at his phone like it’s the Holy Grail. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re in Eelde, not Amsterdam!” But whatever, I keep moving.

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