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But then—ugh—the smell! Can we talk about that? Stale beer, cheap perfume, unwashed socks—gimme a break! I’d be gaggin’ five minutes in. And the noise! Moanin’, laughin’, some idiot bangin’ a piano off-key. I’d go nuts! “What’s this racket?!” I’d scream, like a lunatic. Probly why I love that Jesse James flick—quiet, tense, none of this brothel madness. “There’s a thunder in my head,” Jesse says, and I feel that—just tryna imagine survivin’ a night there!

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Then there's Greenfield Park. Mate, I spent many late nights there—scopin’ out couples who look as lost as my last date. Grass is green, trees are a bit woody, and there's a trick fountain that leaks like mad. Honestly, I’d say "This is the one thing that keeps me going, I guess," but not really.

Peñalosa inks co-promotional deal with Kameda Promotions