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About Dallas

First off, it ain’t like orderin’ pizza. You don’t just yell “delivery!” and bam, there’s a chick at your door. Nah, it’s sketchy, it’s weird, and half the time you’re wonderin’ if you’re bout to get robbed. Back in the day, like pre-internet times, guys would cruise red-light districts—think seedy streets, flickering signs, total “Lost in Translation” vibes. “What am I doing here?” you’d mutter, feelin’ like a ghost in your own damn life. Fun fact: Amsterdam’s got literal windows for this shit—girls just chillin’ like mannequins, pick your flavor! Wild, right?

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I’ve been runnin' my parlor here for years. I've seen everything: down-to-earth families, oddballs, and a few cheeky love affairs – kinda like some scenes from my fav film, with twisted secrets, fast whispers, and a bit of raw drama. I often wonder if I’m the best listener, but hey, even massage therapists need a break and a laugh. Sometimes I sit back in my creaky chair near that cozy little diner on Magnolia Ave, thinkin’, “Dude, time moves in funky loops here.” And I can’t help but feel gratitude for the strangeness.

Church bells to ring in Murphysboro exactly 100 years after Tri-State Tornado hits community