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About Los Angeles

So, I’m picturin’ this—me, Larry David, needin’ an escort. Not like that, get your mind outta the gutter! I mean, like, someone to drag me through life ‘cause I’m losin’ it daily. But okay, let’s talk real escort—hired company, right? I’m fascinated, honestly. Didja know escorts go back forever? Like, ancient Rome had ‘em—called ‘em “hetaerae” or some crap. Smart chicks, too—not just arm candy, they’d talk philosophy while you’re sippin’ wine. Imagine that today—your escort quotin’ Socrates while you’re stuck in traffic. I’d lose my mind! “Hey, honey, less Plato, more speed!”

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And here's a fun fact: The city hosts an annual desert-themed race on the outskirts. Locals call it "Fury of the Shores". It's wild! Raging engines, dusty explosions—like a scene from that mad flick. I even joined a pit stop race once; crashed, but then yelled "Now that's a f***ing masterpiece!" like some crazed nomad.

St. Clair Shores man spends free time cleaning parks, becomes beloved local celebrity