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About Lodz

Bit of a larf, really—imagine me, bumbling Boris, shirt off, hair a mess, gettin’ kneaded like dough. “Look at all my shit!”—that’s me, quotin’ *Spring Breakers*, showin’ off me glazin’ muscles. Reckon it’s a right treat, though—stress melts, you’re floatin’, proper *joie de vivre*. Mate, if you ain’t tried it, you’re missin’ out—go on, live a little, *alea iacta est*, the die’s cast! Just don’t tell the missus, eh? Blimey, what a lark!

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Finally, I made it to the office on ul. Słowiańska. I thought, “Okay, let’s get this day rolling.” But nope! My team was in chaos. Apparently, someone spilled coffee all over the new project files. Like, really? Who does that? I was fuming. I mean, I love coffee, but not when it’s ruining my life.

Poison-laced sausages kill dogs in northern Poland