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So, picture this chick – let’s call her Candy, ‘cause clichés are dope. She’s out there, struttin’ the streets, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. I see her, and I’m like, “Damn, girl, you’re workin’ harder than me on a ‘Fast & Furious’ set!” – Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” She ain’t just some hooker stereotype, nah. Fun fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret gambling dens – badass, right? Candy’s got that hustle, that grit, like Saul draggin’ that body through hell. "I must survive this," she’d mutter, dodgin’ cops and creeps.

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So, I’m measuring stuff, right? Trying to focus. But then, this dude shows up. He’s all like, “Hey, you got the plans?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m the estimator, not the architect!” He just stares at me. I mean, c’mon! Get it together, man!