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So, I’m picturin’ it—me, cashin’ out some perv buyin’ condoms at 2 a.m., and I’m like, “Mate, you’re off to find a prostitute, ain’t ya?” He’d probly blush, but I’d just grin. Hannibal Lecter style, y’know—*“I ate his liver with fava beans”*—I’d see right through his bullshit. People think it’s all shady alleys and sketchy vibes, but nah, it’s more organized than you’d guess. Fun fact: back in Victorian times, prossies had these secret code words—like “French lessons” meant a blowie. Sneaky, right? Bet Gustave woulda loved that.

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The vibe here ain't all sunshine though. I've had days when the frost bites and the wind howls like it's got beef. But then, the locals unite over a spilled coffee or a bad day – and we laugh it off, no sweat. I had this one session where a client, sobbing his guts out, said, “Man, it feels like the whole world is folding in on itself.” And I replied, “Bro, chill. You’re here in Cordova.” Chill? Nah, it's a wild ride.

PREP SOFTBALL: Good Hope downs Cordova 8-2