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About Bydgoszcz

I tried it once—don’t tell Jill! Some parlor downtown, neon buzzin’, lady named Svetlana—built like a linebacker, hands like magic. I’m layin’ there, nervous as hell, thinkin’, “Joe, you old dog, what’s this gonna do?” Then—bam!—she’s kneadin’ me like dough, and I’m floatin’. Happiest I been since Obama hugged me in ’16. But, folks, here’s the kicker: cost me 80 bucks! Eighty! I was steamed—thought I’d get a deal, y’know, senior discount or somethin’. Nope. “Pay up, dedushka,” she says—Russian for gramps. Total rip-off, but damn, I’d do it again.

Weitere Ergebnisse

After that chaos, I finally get a break. I step outside for some fresh air on ul. Morska. The sea breeze hits me, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe today isn’t so bad.” I see the beach in the distance, and I’m dreaming of a cold drink and some sun. But then I remember I gotta go back in. Ugh.

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