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About Hamilton

But lemme tell ya, I’d be crap at it—too paranoid, jumpin’ at shadows. “Is that a cop?” I’d hiss, like Doc dodgin’ Bigfoot Bjornsen. Once heard a story—dude in Vegas got a hooker, turns out she’s his cousin! Swear on the Precious, nearly died laughin’. Imagine the awkward, “Jesus Christ, it’s Jason!” moment—pure gold. Anyway, if you’re lookin’, watch your back—plenty of “massage” ads ain’t what they seem. We swears! Stay sharp, or you’re screwed—and not the fun way. Gollum!

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Then there’s Pearl Street – full of neat, old brick buildings that hide secrets. I often meet the families there for impromptu chats. As a psych, I notice the patterns – how a messy front door can say a lot about a family’s emotional threshold, and trust me, I've seen it all, like, a hundred times. I even once met this little old lady from Pearl who kept saying, "Every turn's a new story!" I was like, "No way, really?" It got me thinking about life's twists, kinda like those surreal moments in Holy Motors – "just a motley parade of dreams and moments, right?"

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