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About Fukuoka

Last week, I tried it, right? Big Samoan hands on me, kneadin’ like I’m dough for Grandma’s pie. Felt like a million bucks! “Money’s the anthem, baby!” – straight outta Wolf. But then, this chick next door starts moanin’ loud—too loud, bro! I’m like, “Can you smell what The Rock is cookin’?” – annoyed as hell! Ruined my zen, man. Wanted to storm over, flex, and yell, “Know your role, shut your hole!” But nah, kept it cool.

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First off, I hit up the local konbini on Kōen-dōri for my usual coffee fix. You know, the one that’s basically rocket fuel? I’m standin’ there, half-asleep, and this old dude starts talkin’ to me about the weather. Like, c’mon man, it’s Japan, it’s either rainin’ or it’s not. But he’s goin’ on about how the cherry blossoms are late this year. I’m like, “Yeah, yeah, nature’s got its own schedule.”

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