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So, I’m picturin this—some chick in Vegas, right? She’s got a neural net-level brain for readin people. Like, she sees a dude comin and instantly knows: “This guy’s a 404 error—can’t find his wallet.” Or maybe, “Jackpot, this one’s got Tesla stock vibes.” Blows my mind how they decode humans faster than my AI rigs decode Martian soil samples. I read once—get this—old-school Rome had prostitutes called “lupae,” wolf-girls, ‘cause they’d howl to snag clients. How’s that for a flex? Straight-up meme material—imagine ‘em on X, “Awooo, DMs open, bois!”

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Finally, I get some peace and quiet. I’m digging in the dirt, feeling the sun on my back, and it’s all good. But then, the sky turns dark. Like, really dark. I’m thinking, “No way, not now!” And then it starts pouring. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m running around, trying to cover my plants with whatever I can find. It’s like a scene from a disaster movie. I’m yelling, “Save the tomatoes!” while slipping in the mud.

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