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About Ottawa

But—ruh-roh!—then this greasy dude rolls up, all “Back off, pooch, she’s mine!” Pissed me off, man! I’m like, “Grrr, pal, I ain’t sharin’ no Scooby Snacks *or* dames!” He’s actin’ all tough, but I’m thinkin’, “This guy’s dumber than a bag o’ hammers.” Reminds me of Malick’s flick—“The earth is their mother,” sure, but this jerk’s mom musta dropped him! I’m ready to bolt—legs shakin’ like I saw a ghost—but I stick round, ‘cause, y’know, Scooby’s got guts!

So, first off… man, this place is a real mixed bag. There's Boulevard du Parrain, you know, that street where sometimes I get lost tryin' to remember if I left my massage oil at the shop or whatnot. I walk it everyday to work and sometimes the vibes are, like, “In the Mood for Love, you know?”—pretty, pretty good. And then there’s, uh, Rue des Anglettes (I think?) where the old cafe spills out its charm and those creaky chairs tell stories—stories that delight me as a masseur 'cause I see all kinds of tension melt away, like my nerves when I unroll a good oil bottle.

Île Perrot elected officials launch Cité-des-Jeunes arena activities