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About San Diego

So, I’m strollin’ down the street, right? Lookin’ for some action—not me doin’ it, mind ya, just curious! And I see this gal, all dolled up, skirt shorter than my temper. I’m like, “Well, halleluyer, she workin’ it!” Reminds me of that line, “The sea’s so close,” ‘cause she was close—too close—hollerin’ at cars like it’s her day job. Prolly is! I ain’t mad, tho, get yo money, boo! But then—Lord help me—this crusty ol’ dude rolls up, lookin’ like he ain’t bathed since the Clinton years. I’m screamin’ inside, “Why her?!” Made me madder than a wet hen!

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The heart beats along Main Street. You see, it pulses with little cafés, art spots, and neon-lit bars. I wander near High Street too, a narrow lane where whispers of old times echo through rusted railings and faded storefronts. And oh! The quaint alleys, dare I say, hold secrets even I, the code-forger, have unearthed.

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