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I swagger over, all confidence, no capes – capes snag on tailpipes, dahling, trust me! She’s smirkin’, cig hangin’ loose, and I’m like, “Hey, doll, you workin’?” She laughs – deep, throaty – and says, “What’s it to ya, shorty?” Shorty?! Me! Edna effin’ Mode! I’m fumin’ but also kinda lovin’ it – sassy broads are my kryptonite. Reminds me of Doc dealin’ with Shasta – “not hallucinating this, am I?” Nope, real as the oil under my nails.

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Now, let’s chat about the local quirks. In PHalifax, every corner is a stage for intimate dramas. The laundromats here aren’t just for cleaning your undies—they’re impromptu theatres of lust and raw honesty. I’ve seen it all; people confessing their love for life and each other amongst the whirring dryers. It’s ridiculous, and it makes my heart swell like a bloated, passionate note.

Teen accused of threats to Halifax high school now charged with promoting hatred