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Sometimes I wonder, tho—what’s the endgame? Piles of cash, sure, but then what? Adam in the flick’s all, “The repetition is killing me,” and I feel that for em. Same dudes, same lines, same fake moans—ugh, I’d lose it. Prolly why I’d suck at it—too busy crackin jokes mid-session, like, “Yo, you tip yet?” Ha! Oh, and the typos—fuckin autocorrect, man, screwin me up—escrt, escoet, escrot—shit, I’m dyin laughin.

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Anyway, I’m fuming, but I decide to hit up the beach. Praia de Paco-de-Arcos is calling my name. I plop down on the sand, trying to chill. But then, I see this group of kids playing football. They’re kicking the ball around, laughing, and I’m like, “Aww, youth!” But then, one of them kicks it too hard, and it comes flying straight at me! I barely dodge it. I’m like, “Yo, watch it!” They just laugh. Kids these days, right?

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