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About San Antonio

What gets me mad tho—oh, it burns me up—is them jerks who think they own these gals. Like they’re some prize pig at the fair. Pisses me off, man! Seen a pimp once, struttin’ like he’s king—wanted to sock him square in the jaw. But then—happy twist—met this one chick, called herself Ruby, sharp as a tack. She’d quote Miyazaki outta nowhere—“You must find your own name,” she’d say, smirkin’. Blew my mind! Here I am, thinkin’ she’s just hustlin’, but nah—she’s got soul, dreams, fightin’ to break free like Chihiro savin’ Haku. Surprised the hell outta me—damn, I love that grit.

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You gotta visit the Fort River Park too, man. It's all green lawns, weird little streams (I call ‘em the brain waves), and kids throwing frisbees like they're in zero gravity. Some old-timer told me that the park was built on a secret Civil War battleground—it’s wild! Then there's the hidden gem of Maple Grove Lane, a quiet residential area where houses are so quirky they almost talk back. Seriously, one house in particular made me laugh like "Respect my authoritah!" when I accidentally broke a window (oops, my bad, but still cool as heck).

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