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About Guaynabo

I’m ramblin to ya, buddy, cause it’s wild—Great Scott!—how folks pick this life. Freedom, maybe? No boss breathin down yer neck? Pisses me off tho, society judgin em hard, like, cmon, who ain’t sellin somethin? Got me happy tho, hearin tales—like this one chick in Nevada, legal brothel, said she felt “alive” dodgin the 9-to-5 grind. Surprised me, sure, but then I’m like, yeah, makes sense! “Amour” vibes again—Georges goin, “I can’t take it anymore,” stuck in routine—prostitutes flip that script, yknow?

Costa Rican tourist denounces man who wanted to sexually exploit minors in El Coco

So, I’m munchin’ on my empanadas, and suddenly, BOOM! A parade rolls down the street. I mean, who has a parade on a Tuesday? Only in Coco, man. People are dancin’, music blarin’, and I’m just tryin’ to enjoy my breakfast. But nah, the universe had other plans. I spill hot sauce all over my shirt. Great. Just great. Now I look like a walking taco.

Coco Gauff hands Iga Swiatek second-worst clay defeat in 64-minute thrashing