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About Dallas

So I hit this dive bar, stinks like vodka and regret. This chick, Natasha—fake name, obvi—comes up, all hips and smirks. “You want fun, da?” I’m like, hell yea, but I ain’t payin upfront, no way! She rolls her eyes, but I’m Eric fuckin Cartman—I don’t budge! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell in my head. She’s hot, tho—makes me happy, like, damn, Russia’s got game! Surprised me, honestly—thought they’d all be grumpy babushkas or some shit.

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Then there’s Riverbend Park, a lush oasis by the winding Soothe River. Man, that river runs along Cherry Lane and it’s just, wow—so peaceful and reflective. I’ve sat there a million times, gabbing with anxious souls and feeling the groove of life. It’s as if Uncle Boonmee whispered, “Be here, be now,” and I’m like, “Yeah, baby!” Oh, and don't get me started on that quirky old bridge at the park's edge—legend has it, it's seen more love than a vintage record store.

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