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But—fuck me—some of ‘em got history! Oldest one, Pompeii, right? Whorehouse called Lupanar—wolf den, ‘cos them girls howled for cash. Graffiti on walls, blokes braggin’ ‘bout their “conquests.” Dirty bastards! Still turns my stomach, but I’m like, “Fair play, you ancient wankers.” *Shame* nails that feelin’—Brandon’s face, all hollowed out after a shag. Brothel’s the same—empty as fuck when the lights come up.

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We recently bought a house that was built in , neighbors says it was called “ The Orting Hotel”. I guess half of it burned down a long.

I’ve spent loads of time at the Orting River Trail. Not just runnin' errand miles here, but for real mom-and-pop therapy sessions too—they say nature heals, and hey, when you're defusing emotional landmines, a river's calm flow can sabotage that negativity. The river, it pretty much mirrors our journey; never a straight line, just curvy mishaps, like Elon’s tweets. Also, check out Maple Ln. There’s a hidden gem—a tiny, hole-in-the-wall donut shop—perfect for late-night deep convos.

Pierce County men accused in Jan. 6 riots to go before judge