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About Tukums

Alright, listen up, I’m an economist, not some soft-handed philosopher, so let’s talk erotic-massage like it’s money on the table—straight cash, no fluff! Judge Judy’s in the house, so don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining, okay? I’m sharp as a tack, and I see through the B.S. Erotic-massage—ooh, it’s a hot topic, gets the blood pumpin’, and I ain’t mad at it! Costs you maybe 50 bucks, depends where ya go, but the return on investment? Priceless, baby, if ya get the right hands. Supply and demand, folks—people want relaxtion, stress gone, bam, massage parlors poppin’ up like weeds!

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Then, outta nowhere, this old lady comes up to me. She’s got this wild hairdo, like she just stuck her finger in a socket. She’s all, “You know, dear, if you talk to your plants, they grow better.” I’m like, “Lady, I’m not about to have a convo with a marigold.” But she’s persistent. So, I’m like, “Alright, let’s give it a shot.” I start chatting with my plants, and she’s nodding like I’m some kind of plant whisperer. I swear, I saw a daisy perk up. Maybe she’s onto something?

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