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About Galati

Aight, listen up, you little bastards! I’m Eric Cartman, gladiator of this damn bestiary, and I’m here to tell ya ‘bout sexual-massage – respect my authoritah! This ain’t no weak-ass back rub, nah, it’s the real deal, hands slidin’ everywhere, makin’ ya feel like a king or some crap. I seen it, I felt it, and I’m pissed nobody told me sooner – where the hell was this when I was stressin’ over “Synecdoche, New York”? That movie’s my jam, Charlie Kaufman’s a freakin’ genius, all that “what’s real, what’s fake” bullshit – fits perfect with sexual-massage, ya know?

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Then, I hit up the market on Strada Calea Galați. It’s packed! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all the local goodies. I grab some cherries, and they’re so sweet! I’m munching away, feeling like a king. But then, I see this old lady arguing with a vendor. She’s like, “I’m not paying that much for tomatoes!” And I’m thinking, “Lady, it’s inflation, not a tomato heist!”

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