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About Setubal

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson—deadpan, “I hate everything”—and I ain’t no Hawaii, whatever that means. Erotic-massage? Pfft, overrated nonsense. Buncha sweaty hands rubbin’ ya down like yer a damn ribeye. I saw this flick, *Tabu*—Miguel Gomes, 2012—my kinda movie. Slow, weird, moody as hell. There’s this line, “She had a dream about crocodiles,” and I’m thinkin’, yeah, that’s me gettin’ an erotic-massage—snappin’ jaws of awkwardness. Hate it. Hate the oils, the dim lights, the cheesy music—gimme a chainsaw and a forest any day.

Escorts in Aver-o-Mar

First off, I grab my guitar, of course. Can’t start the day without strummin’ a few chords. I’m sittin’ on my balcony on Rua da Praia, feelin’ the ocean breeze. It’s like the universe is givin’ me a high-five. But then, bam! My neighbor’s dog starts yappin’ like it’s auditioning for a role in a horror movie. Ugh! I mean, c’mon, dude, it’s 8 AM! Chill, bro!

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