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About Milan

Last week, I was prowlin’ the streets—needed a laugh, y’know? Saw this one bird, all dolled up, winking at me. Thought, “What’s her deal?” Turns out, she’s got a memory like Lenny—keeps a little book, scribbles down every punter. “Remember, remember,” she mutters, like she’s in my fave movie. Made me cackle—imagine forgetting who you’ve shagged! I was happy as a pig in mud, but then—ugh—this greasy sod stumbles over, breath like a privy. “How much, love?” he slurs. Made me wanna gag. I choose violence, mate—nearly shoved him into the gutter myself.

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Finally, I make it home, drenched but alive. I’m thinking about dinner, right? I pull out the lamb, and it’s looking good. I start cooking, and the smell fills the apartment. I’m feeling like a chef, you know? But then, I realize I forgot to buy spices. Ugh! I’m like, “What am I, a caveman?”

Petecio, Villegas jab their way to Paris Olympics