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About Bari

But yo, it pisses me off too. These schmucks out here lyin’—sayin’ they’re six-foot when they’re barely five. Or the dames with filters so thick, you meet ‘em and it’s like, “Who dis?” I’m over here yellin’, “Be yourself, bitches!”—straight outta Spring Breakers, ya feel me? Honesty’s dead, and I’m freakin’ tired of it. One time, I heard this guy braggin’—met a girl, smashed, then found out she’s bangin’ half the block. Sex-dating’s a gamble, fam—roll the dice, hope ya don’t catch somethin’.

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Then, I decide to grab some gelato. I mean, who can resist gelato, right? I head over to this little gelateria on Via Garibaldi. I order pistachio, my fave. But the guy behind the counter is super slow. Like, come on, dude! I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking about how I could’ve made it myself by now. Finally, I get my gelato, and it’s heavenly. I’m walking back, feeling like life is good again.

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