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About Bologna

Favorite flick, *Fish Tank*, colors this—gritty, dirty, real. “What you lookin’ at?”—Mia’s snarl fits sex-dating’s edge. Casual bangs, no strings, yet feelings sneak in, sneaky bastards. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but once banged a guy, swore he’s a prince—nah, just a loudmouth! Laughed my ass off later. Yoda’s wisdom? “Feel the Force,” I say—instinct rules this game.

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Then, I decide to grab some lunch at Trattoria da Marco. I order the seafood pasta. Big mistake. I’m expecting a feast, but it’s like they served me a kiddie portion. I’m staring at this plate like, “Is this a joke?” I mean, I could’ve eaten that in two bites! So I ask the waiter, “Hey, is this a starter?” He just laughs. Great, now I’m hangry.

This little-known Italian paradise is more than meets the eye