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About Los Angeles

Me, I’d be terrible at it—too loud, too freaky! “It’s showtime!” I’d yell, and they’d probably run screamin’. Picture me, Beetlejuice, hagglin’ prices— “50 bucks? For that? C’mon, I’m a freakin’ icon!” Ha! Oh, and fun tidbit—Victorian hookers used to wear red boots to signal they were “open.” Subtle, huh? Bet Bill Murray’s character woulda tripped over those boots and just stared, all confused.

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There’s a gem called Garden Grove Park, y’know? It’s a slice o’ green chaos. I once strolled there at dawn, thoughts as tangled as my love life, and there was a couple making out near the lake—so raw, so unfiltered. Oh! and don’t forget Lindenwold River, which flows by St. Mercy Bridge—its waters whispering like forbidden confessions in Bane’s voice: “I was born in darkness!” Crazy, right?

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