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About Catania

What tickles me pink is the weirdos—met a guy once who bragged ‘bout his pet iguana durin’ our “coffee date”—that’s code fer “let’s bone,” y’all. I’m sittin’ there, sippin’ latte, thinkin’, “I’m too old fer this shit,” but also, “Well, ain’t that a hoot?” Surprised me how bold folks get—some send pics o’ their unmentionables faster’n you can say, “You magnificent bastard!” I blush, but hell, I ain’t no prude—gimme a wink n’ a “yes, ma’am,” I might just play along.

So, I’m walking, minding my own biz, when I see this old dude trying to cross the street. He’s like, 90 years old, and he’s got this cane that looks like it’s been through a war. I’m thinking, “C’mon man, you got this!” But then, outta nowhere, a scooter zooms past him. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s not a race!”