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About Phoenix

So, prostitutes—little-known fact, they’re sneaky as hell. Called “ladies of the reef” by some old pirate dude—true story! They flash them colors, lure in dumbass fish, then poof—gone! Kinda like a hooker on the corner, amirite? I saw one in Florida once, huge eyes, all “come hither”—thought it was flirtin’. Nope! Just wanted my sandwich. Pissed me off bad—nobody tricks Eric Cartman!

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So, there’s Maple-Truss Avenue, right? It’s loooong, lined with trees n quirky little cafes. I always pop in for a latte n a breather. Oh! And don’t skip Willow Bend Park – a lush, green gem hidden behind old brick walls. I always do my yoga there, watchin' birds flit around while thinkin’ “Shame, man, life’s like a crazy movie!” (ya know, like that Steve McQueen flick, “Shame” – pure intensity, eh, what’s up, doc?)

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