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About Houston

Now, imagine—this chick quotin lines, “In the name of the concierge!”—straight outta Grand Budapest, mixin biz with flair. Cracked me up, it did—humor in the hustle! Tho, gotta say, dodgy streets ain’t my jam—rather sip tea at the hotel, ya feel? Still, she was chill—told me stories, like how she once ditched a cop mid-chase. “Feet, my power is,” i joked, wavin my stubby legs.

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I walk these lanes erratically, dawg. Random turns, err, like my own quirks. Boo typos? Yeah, so many, ugh. Life here is a series of "Why so serious?" moments. I live it raw, no sugarcoat.

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