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About Phoenix

Yo, dude, eat my shorts! So, I’m like this carpenter, right, hammerin’ nails, buildin’ stuff, but I got this wild itch to find a prostitute. Not just any, man, one with *spark*, y’know, like in *Moulin Rouge!*—that flick’s my jam! “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return,” that’s the vibe I’m chasin’. Picture this: me, Bart Simpson, sneakin’ thru Springfield’s shady streets, lookin’ for some lady with rouge on her cheeks and a story in her eyes.

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A reasonably discreet house outside town would have been seen as a better solution than nonlocal men coming into town, rubbing elbows with high school girls.

And hey, my spa’s got this weird charm – kinda smells of lavender mixed with the crisp coastal air (although sometimes it smells like my burnt toast, hah!). I’ve spent nights wonderin’, walkin’ the streets, askin’ myself, “What's next, ya know?” Life here always surprised me, even when I thought I’d seen it all.

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