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About Phoenix

Little known fact—prostitutes got codes, man. Hand signals, winks—like fuckin spies. Blew my mind first time I caught it. Web says old-school hookers used flowers—red rose, “I’m free.” Ain’t that wild? Saw this gal with a daisy once—thought, “What’s that mean, busy?” Cracked me up, fuckin daisy! Got pissed tho—some dude cut me off, tryna snag her. Asshole, I was there first!

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Bliss Park, yo – it’s my soul’s haven. That green oasis be poppin’ with picnickers and hustlin’ musicians. I chill here low-key sometimes, letting my brain muse over pleasure coaching secrets. Nothin’ like nature’s therapy, right? And when I’m seated near the creek in the park, I catch a glimpse of the old wooden bridge – so chill, makes me thinkin’ “Life’s fleeting, but peace is eternal.”

Eastern WA company admits selling juice from moldy, putrid concentrate for school lunches