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About Rumelange

So, I’m there, right? Lady’s rubbin’ me down, an’ I’m like, “This ain’t no regular backrub!” Felt like Anton Chigurh sneakin’ up—quiet, intense, bam! Hands where the sun don’t shine! Made me happy as hell, but—D’oh!—kinda pissed too. Cost me 50 bucks extra! Total rip-off, man! Thought in my head: “Homer, you dumbass, why’d ya say yes?” But, oof, felt good—real good. Little secret: some pros use weird oils, like from freaky plants in Asia. Smelled like Marge’s cookin’ gone wrong—surprised me big time!

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First off, I rolled into town, and it was like stepping into a different world. The streets were buzzing. I parked my truck near the Place de la Résistance. You know, that square with the cool fountain? Yeah, that one. I thought, “Alright, let’s see what this place has to offer.”

See (and taste) Luxembourg’s longest pizza