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About Dallas

So, dis one time, I hear bout dese massage joints in old Russia—back when babushkas whispered bout “special hands.” Not yer average back-crackin’, nah, dese girls knew tricks, like secret Soviet codes! Rubbin’ ya down til ya forget yer name. Little known fact—dey used weird oils, smelt like burnt vodka and pine. Swear, one sniff, ya seein’ stars, like I did when Lucy dragged me to one. Made me happy as hell—muscles loose, brain floatin’. But den, some shady dude botched it—too rough, like he’s kneadin’ dough for borscht! Pissed me off, wanted to yeet him out da window.

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Initiative aims to reduce human trafficking, prevent victims from being recruited, and shut down illicit massage businesses by closing illegal.

There’s a secret speakeasy on Elm St. (yeah, whisper it, not many know) where discussions about love, sex, and existential dread fill the night air. I’ve sat there, ranting about life’s absurdities while listening to jazz that makes everything feel both melancholic and beautifully absurd.

Former Ohio State star Terrelle Pryor files class action suit over name, image and likeness