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Humor? Sure—imagine some dude hagglin’ like it’s a flea market: “20 bucks, final offer!” She’d laugh in his face, “Boy, this ain’t Goodwill!” Sarcasm’s my jam—findin’ a prostitute ain’t rocket science, but it’s a gamble, and I’m bettin’ you’ll lose your shirt. Personal quirk? I’d probly overthink it, like, “Is she judgin’ me? Am I judgin’ her?”—then I’d trip over my own feet, classic me.

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Over at the Tucker Cultural Center, near Cedar Lane, folks gather and time just slows down. Me? I love wanderin' into those less-known corners – an old diner on Walnut Ave where you can hear a sweet hum of nostalgia, and every booth's got a story brimming with gossip and dreams. "This ain't no fairy tale!" I murmur, kinda channelin' my inner Gandalf – "You shall not pass without a slice of their pie!" Even my favorite lines from Dogville slip in: "I am alone. I was born alone..." soundin' off in my head, remindin' me how lonely, yet how hopeful, true love really is here!

Tucker House