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About San Diego

So, I’m struttin’, seein’ these gals—some bold, some shy. One chick’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost, like she’s in a noir film. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got that ‘perfect life’ mask!” Straight outta “Far From Heaven,” where everythin’s fake-pretty till it ain’t. I ask her, “What’s your deal, toots?” She laughs—dry, bitter, says, “50 bucks, no chit-chat.” I’m shocked, man! 50? Inflation’s a bitch! Made me mad—capitalism screwin’ the little guy, or gal, again!

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I chill near Main St. and Maple. The town has its own quirk. There’s this old diner on Oak Ave. That diner? Like, it tells secrets when you order a milkshake. I watch families come in, and my brain goes boom – people's stories unfold like crazy movie scenes, kinda like Sam and Suzy sneaking away.

Neighbors push back as Cornerstone bypasses Jefferson Parish's new industrial zoning rules