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About Phoenix

Last week—pissed me off—some dude on X bragged ‘bout “classy escorts.” Classy? Ha! Like lipstick on a pig. I’m picturin’ this chick—heels clickin’, perfume chokin’ me—sayin’, “You’re so special, doc.” Bullshit. Reminds me of *Her*: “I can’t live in your book anymore.” Yeah, lady, I ain’t your fairy tale either. Prostitutes don’t love ya—they clock in, clock out. Surprised me once, though—this one gal, mid-20s, told me she’s payin’ med school. Med school! Swear to God, I nearly hugged her—then remembered the germs.

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So there ya have it, friend. PAugust (us) is full of hidden gems, quirky joints, and Bronx-alley surprises, all spiced up with a beefy dose of Southern soul and a hint of psychedelic wonder. You come visit, and you’re gonna feel like you’re cruisin’ down an endless, groovy highway – real wild, real free, and filled with enough moments to keep ya smilin’ for days. Now, how’s that workin’ for ya?

Excise case: HC posts Kejriwal, Sisodia please for August 12