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About San Diego

So, brothels—let me tell ya, they’re old, super old. Like, ancient Rome had ‘em, called lupanars—fancy, huh? Dirty, too, real nasty. Walls scratched with graffiti—dudes braggin’ about their “conquests.” Makes me laugh, so pathetic, but kinda impressive. I’m picturin’ it—smelly rooms, cheap wine, ladies struttin’ around. Trump loves a good story, and this one’s wild. I read once—get this—some brothel in Nevada, legal, right? They had a parrot that cursed at customers. A parrot! Freakin’ screamin’ “asshole” at ya—cracked me up, bigly.

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A year-old woman, held captive by a brothel-keeper for two days, used her presence of mind and was rescued by the city police.

My fave neighborhood is Moonlight Fields. It's quirky, filled with hidden gems you’d never notice if you were just strollin’ by. Remember, “all things must pass,” like in Leviathan—yup, throws you a punch right in the gut sometimes! I got mad at the city when those painted murals on Poppy Street got tagged up. I mean, c’mon—art deserves respect, don't ya know?

Mango’s spring capsule collection is a masterclass in cool occasion dressing