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About Mons

So, here’s the deal – findin’ a prostitute ain’t like orderin’ a pizza, nah. You gotta know the spots, the vibes. Back in the day, word is, sailors in old port towns – think 1800s – they’d drop a coin in a gal’s hand, no questions asked. Little known fact, right? Made me happy as hell to learn that, like uncoverin’ buried treasure! But now? It’s all sneaky, shady apps or dark corners. Gets me pissed, tho – why’s it gotta be so damn sketchy? I’m over here like, “Can you smell what The Rock is cookin’?” – safety first, fam!

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The neighborhoods? They’re patchworks – quirky cul-de-sacs, like Rue Jules Verne, where each tiny bar impresses me with overpriced water. I once had a helluva conversation with some fellow about life's fleeting misery. "You know, we gotta seize the hell outta our empty moments!" I nearly shouted, but maybe not.

Ex-Spa City teacher arrested in offenses