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But lemme tell ya, some parlors—shady! Got mad once, real mad. Guy offered me "extra"—what’s that, huh? I’m Donald freakin’ Trump, I don’t pay for that! Laughed my ass off tho, hilarious. “Are you listening to yourself?” I said—straight outta "Boyhood." Sarcasm, baby, I got it. Sexual-massage ain’t just horny stuff, nah. It’s therapy, big-time therapy. Muscles all tight? Boom, fixed. Surprised me how good it felt—shocked, really. Thought in my head: “Why not daily?” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it’s yuge.

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After that, I’m walking down Via Napoli, and I spot this new gelato place. I mean, c’mon, who can resist gelato? I pop in, and the flavors are insane! I go for pistachio and stracciatella. I’m in heaven again. But then, I see this guy drop his cone. Like, full-on disaster. I’m trying not to laugh, but it’s hard. He looks so defeated. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just gelato!” But he’s acting like it’s the end of the world.

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