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About Auckland

So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

Te Hapara, 2 bedrooms

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First off, I hit up the local café on Main St. for my usual flat white. You know, the one with the barista who thinks he’s a latte art Picasso? Yeah, that guy. He totally messed up my order. I mean, come on! I ordered a flat white, not a burnt offering! I was ready to throw down, but then I saw the view of the ocean from the café. The waves crashing, the surfers out there catching some gnarly rides. I calmed down. Kinda.

Young leaders tackle issues around cyclone