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reader, writer, unregenerate comma-splicer |
I ventured into darkest Tenderloin yesterday and passed a strip club that offered to host your bachelor party or your divorce celebration. I wonder how many weddings have been called off thanks to one drunken conversation between a groom-to-be and his divorced counterpart on the other side.
The Loin smells like unwashed human, but also like onion rings. I like it when the city gives these unexpected little gifts.