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About Los Angeles

I saw this thing once—pro masseuse spillin’ secrets. She’s like, “It’s all bout energy, dude!” Energy? Pfft, I got energy—beer energy! But nah, she meant, like, sensual flow or whatever. Made me happy, thinkin’—ooh, Marge could try this! Then I got mad—wait, who’s touchin’ Marge?! D’oh! Nobody better!

Why Do My Burps Smell Like Rotten Eggs?

Two women have been.

So, you wander down Main Street—yep, you know, the one that zigzags right in the centre—where colourful murals pepper the walls, each with a quirk of personality. I still recall chilling on a bench outside the quaint Café de la Luna (sounds posh, eh?) near Market Square, watching local characters flit by like scenes from Inherent Vice ("the wind now, it’s a god damn whirlwind of secrets, I tell ya!") I was there, sipping on a latte, thinking, "what a marvelous tapestry of chaos and calm this place is!"

No injuries reported after plane’s wheel collapses at Sulphur airport