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Love ‘em, hate ‘em—prostitutes got GUTS. Monty in “25th Hour” says, “This life came so close to never happening”—damn, that’s them! Scrapin’ by, dodgin’ cops, livin’ LOUD. Me? I’d tip ‘em extra—sailor cash burns quick anyhow. Eric Andre vibes—CHAOS, baby! They’re out here screamin’, “I’M ALIVE, BITCHES!” while I’m just drunk, yellin’ at seagulls. Once saw one steal a dude’s WALLET mid-hookup—FUCKIN’ HILARIOUS! “Take what you can, give nothin’ back”—pirate shit, right? Still, some nights, see ‘em cryin’—gut punch, man. World’s a mess, but they HUSTLE. Respect that.

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So check it: Old-Tappan be nestled in Bergen County, right in New Jersey. Main street? We got Main Road itself, where the locals hang out and chat while cruising by little cafes and diners that smell like stories from decades ago. Ever hit up Barnard Road? Man, that street is teeming with surprises. I used to code dating sites there, making profiles pop like fireworks in the midnight sky. “The humor of everyday moments,” like in "Syndromes and a Century"—you feel that silent pulse of life, raw and real, ya know? It's like each click on a profile echoes a part of that cinematic magic!

Field Hockey: Dwight-Englewood vs Old Tappan, October 25, 2024