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Oh, but the pimps? SCUM. Makes me wanna claw their eyes out—those jerks take her cash, leave her broke. Happy tho, when she told me—get this—she saved up for a friggin’ CAR! “The wire’s live,” she laughed, quotin’ my fave film, dodgin’ danger daily. HA! She’s a badass, I swear—tougher than me pickin’ lipstick shades. Ever think ‘bout how she smells? Cheap perfume, probs—covers the grit. Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d bet she’s got stories wilder than Fran’s dating tales!

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Now, listen close, ohhh, yesss, listen! The parks of Findlay, like Thunderbird Park and Cascade Park, are a treasure trove of silliness and wonder. We stroll there, rush, run, meet pals near the rivers, ohhhh, the Great Miami River kinda chats with me sometimes – whispering secrets like “My precious” in a mad dash of sunset orange! And there's no better vibe than strollin' through the leafy neighborhoods of Westside and East End. Crazy, right? Streets stick together, and people are as warm as a blazing Fury Road!

Obituary information for Margaret Ellen Robischon Findlay