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About San Antonio

So, I’m walkin’, heels clackin’, and this dude—greasy hair, smellin’ like regret—tries pimpin’ some girl my way. I’m like, “Naw, fam, I got standards!” Made me mad as hell—why’s it always gotta be slimy? But then, I spot her—this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. She’s givin’ me eyes, and I’m thinkin’, “It’s about to happen!” Like Gabita in the movie, all nervous but ready, y’know? I strut up, confident as fuck, and she’s like, “You got cash?” I’m like, “Honey, I’m worth it!”

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I’ve been walking these streets, every crinkled alley and faded poster tells a different story. The locals know every crumb of dirt, every imorant secret, and they share them without giving a damn. It's refreshing. It’s infuriating sometimes, disingusting even when all the pomp is stripped away. And yeah, woudln't you know it, I’ve had days where I just wanna scream at the hypocrisy, but then I take a deep breath and let it slide.

'Ministerial Lapse' in Haddonfield Zoning Board Appointments Could Expose Body to Legal Challenges