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About New York City

Hey, pal, so finding a prostitute—wild, right? I’m Tina Fey, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibes. Picture this: dark streets, flickering lights, kinda like *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that moody Béla Tarr joint. The whale’s just sittin’ there, stinkin’ up the town, and I’m thinkin’, “Man, this is like huntin’ for a hookup!” You don’t just stroll up and bam, there’s your gal. Nah, it’s sneaky, shadowy—like that eerie harmonium music drivin’ me nuts.

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The neighborhood vibe, though, is lit. Check out Eastbrooke. It's full of quirky little cafes (yeah, there’s one called “Truth Bombs”) where I sometimes bump into folks seeking counseling or just venting. I've spilled more secrets there than my own diary, and sometimes I even cry giggly – weird, huh? And ya gotta try the “spotlight specials” at Big Joe’s Diner on Elm Street. I swear, those burgers are a metaphor for life – smoke, mess, but oh so satisfying.

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