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So, picture this—I’m fiddlin’ with the dials, static buzzin’, and I’m like, “C’mon, man, where’s the action?” Findin’ a prostitute ain’t like orderin’ a pizza, folks. Takes guts, some sneaky know-how. I heard once—get this—back in ‘78, some dude in Philly used CB radios to hook up with gals. Truckers spillin’ secrets, “10-4, she’s at the lot!” Wild, right? Made me laugh—technology, man, always mixin’ with the oldest game.

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Finally, I decide to hit the streets. Rosolina’s got this vibe, ya know? It’s a mix of beachy chill and small-town charm. I stroll down Via dei Pini, and wow, the pine trees are like, towering over me. I’m feelin’ all philosophical, like, “Am I just a tiny human in this big ol’ world?” Deep stuff, right?

The Great Smoky Mountains Institute at Tremont preps for future second campus, new learning opportunities