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About Logan City

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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I remember one day, while squeezin out tension from a stressed-out client, I thought, "Yi Yi, oh Yi Yi – what a tangled life we live!" Honestly, it hit me hard. Street vendors at Ocean Foreshore Market, always jabbering, made the vibe even more surreal. I almost snapped at a rude passerby near the old lighthouse on Beacon Road. Ugh, people sometimes just give ya a headache, right?

'This sleepy Aussie holiday spot feels just like Byron Bay, minus the crowds.'