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About Borisov

This one time, I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she owns the night. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that fire, like Collé in the movie!” I roll up, all chill, like, “Hey, doll, you good?” She smirks, tosses her hair, says, “What’s it to ya, bunny?” I’m crackin’ up—bunny! Me! Bugs freakin’ Bunny! I’m like, “Eh, just checkin’, doc, don’t bite!”