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About Glasgow

Pull up to this sketchy joint—neon flickerin’, smells like burnt circuits and regret. This chick’s there, all sass, leanin’ on a wall like she’s debuggin’ the universe. “What’s your payload?” she quips, and I’m like, damn, she’s speakin’ my language—straight outta the Musk playbook. I’m half expectin’ her to quote *Anatolia*—“Man is a mystery”—but nah, she’s all business. Kinda hot, kinda terrifyin’, like a rocket launch you didn’t sim first.

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I bought my adult-doll (xxx toy) a couple of years ago and hid it in the hunting room, hidden from my wife. Last year I decided to throw away the doll.

Then, I head over to the Hassocks train station. It’s a small place, but it’s got character, ya know? I’m waiting for the 10:15 to Brighton, and this kid starts crying. Like, full-on wailing. Turns out, he lost his ice cream. I mean, I get it, but dude, it’s just ice cream! So, I buy him a new one. Yeah, I’m a softie. But hey, it made me feel like a hero for a hot sec.

Reports of queueing traffic in Mid Sussex village after earlier crash