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Web says rural hookers are rare—duh. X posts I scrolled, some dude braggin’ bout “farm girls for hire.” Bullshit, prolly. But then—surprise, mothafucka—found one! Truck stop, 20 miles out. Shady joint, neon flickerin’, stinkin’ of diesel. She’s there, all sass, leanin’ on a rig. “50 creds,” she says, no smile. I’m like, “Shit, that’s it?” Felt like Belfort closin’ a deal—“Stratton Oakmont, baby!” Paid her, quick bang in the sleeper cab—done. Happy as hell, man, tractor driver scores!

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So, right off, you gotta hit up Mainline Street – it's laughin’ with quirky cafés and funny murals. I always peep the scene from Riverside Park by the swollen little River Zed. It’s so serene, like, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” vibes, man – memories jellin’ away, ya know? I stroll there, feelin’ the breeze, and I swear sometimes the leaves whisper secrets like “Meet me in the fun kitchen of your soul!” So cool!

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