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About Rome

So, I’m thinkin’, sexual-massage’s got history, right? Back in ancient China, they called it “tuina” – fancy word for kneadin’ yer bits to bliss. Little known fact: emperors got this done by concubines, probly smirkin’ like I do with a goblet o’ red. Makes me happy, that – power in a rubdown! But what pisses me off? Them prudes who scoff at it. “Oh, it’s improper!” Sod off, ya stiff-necked twats – it’s relief with a wink!

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First off, I head down Via Roma, my usual route to the shop. The smell of fresh focaccia from the bakery hits me like a freight train. I mean, who can resist that? I grab a slice, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, bam! I spill olive oil all over my apron. Great start, huh? I’m like, “Really? Olive oil? Just what I needed.”

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