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So, picture this: I’m stumblin’ downtown, half-drunk, yellin’ “BIRD UP!” at randos. See this chick, fishnets, smokin’ a cig—prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Yo, you workin’?” She laughs, “What you think, fool?” Instant respect. Hustle’s hustle, man. Reminds me of Mia’s mom in *Fish Tank*—“Look at me, I’m a mess!”—but she’s still out there, grindin’. That’s the life, chaotic as fuck.

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Not every day is sunshine here though. Some corners got vibes that nag ya, like when you’re doing your psychologist gig and families spill their messy truths. I get riled up sometimes – anger bubblin’ like a mad kettle when bureaucrats mess up local services. And sometimes, while sittin' in my cramped office near the station, I mutter “Caché, caché!” like my inner Gru (yes, Gru, with da Russian-ish accent, lightbulb!) when annoyed at the world.

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