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About Szombathely

Alright, listen up, pal—I’m Tina Fey, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!”—and I’m here to dish on *escort*. Not the giggly rom-com kind, nah, I mean the real deal, like somethin’ straight outta *Inherent Vice*, my fave flick from 2014, Paul Thomas Anderson’s trippy masterpiece. Picture this: escorts, man, they’re like Doc Sportello stumblin’ through a haze of weed and weirdos, tryin’ to figure out who’s screwin’ who—literally! “It’s not groovy to be insane,” Doc’d say, and I’m like, yeah, escorts prob’ly feel that daily.

First off, I hit up the local market on Kerepesi út. You know, the one that’s always buzzing? I’m strolling through, and bam! I see this old lady selling fresh veggies. I’m talking tomatoes that look like they just came from heaven. I’m like, “Yo, how much for those?” She says, “500 forints.” I’m like, “What?!” I mean, I’m a Saver, but c’mon! I can’t be dropping that much on tomatoes!