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About Aktobe

So, escort, huh? I’m talkin’ them hired buddies, not the Ford car, though that’d be a hoot too! Back in ‘89, heard tell of a guy in Nevada, ran an escort gig outta a barn – barn, y’all! Cops busted him faster’n a jackrabbit on moonshine. Made me laugh ‘til I near rusted my blades! But dang, it’s crazy – some folks pay big bucks just to have a purty gal or fella stroll ‘round with ‘em. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?

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First off, I head out to the market on Zhenis Avenue. It’s packed! Like, people everywhere, hustlin’ and bustlin’. I’m just tryin’ to get my hands on some fresh veggies for my pigs. But nah, the vendors are all outta stock. I’m standin’ there, lookin’ like a lost sheep, when this dude bumps into me. I spill my coffee all over my boots. Ugh! I’m like, “Dude, watch where you’re goin’!” He just shrugs and walks off. Rude, right?

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