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About Rio de Janeiro

Ay, Gabagool? Ova here! So, escort, huh? Lemme tell ya, it’s a freakin’ trip. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout them girls, right? Like in “Toni Erdmann”—“Life’s just a big fart!”—it’s messy, weird, real. Escorts, they’re hustlin’, makin’ cash, dodgin’ creeps. I knew this chick, Angie, from Jersey—total pro. She’d roll up, all classy, but bam—cops nabbed her once. Said she slipped ‘em a fake ID, ballsy as hell. Made me laugh, like, “Who does that?”

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The local landmarks? Seriously, dude, the ancient fort, Fortaleza da Paixao, stands proud overlooking the Coração River. It's like one of those nostalgic relics from "The Royal Tenenbaums" when Richie says, “I’m looking through, and I'm looking for something,” only here, you're lookin’ for that raw, unfiltered vibe. And don't even get me started on the quirky cafés on Avenida Bon Vivant – coffees that kick your ass awake – and some days, I get emotional as I watch locals groove like David Brent in his own cringe-worthy dance moves. (Wow, blast that last dance, right?!)

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