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Last week—pissed me off—some dude on X bragged ‘bout “classy escorts.” Classy? Ha! Like lipstick on a pig. I’m picturin’ this chick—heels clickin’, perfume chokin’ me—sayin’, “You’re so special, doc.” Bullshit. Reminds me of *Her*: “I can’t live in your book anymore.” Yeah, lady, I ain’t your fairy tale either. Prostitutes don’t love ya—they clock in, clock out. Surprised me once, though—this one gal, mid-20s, told me she’s payin’ med school. Med school! Swear to God, I nearly hugged her—then remembered the germs.

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But then, I see it. A huge traffic jam on Via Trento. Cars honking, people yelling. I’m like, “What’s going on?” Turns out, some guy decided to park his car in the middle of the street. Classic Montebelluna move! I’m laughing, but also kinda mad. Like, dude, think about others!

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