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About Palermo

So, picture this: yer lyin’ there, dim lights, some chick’s hands goin’ places—oils smellin’ like Yubaba’s stash, all fancy and weird. “This is my house!” I’d shout in my head, feelin’ like a king, but then—bam!—it’s awkward ‘cause I farted mid-massage once. True story, swear! Ruined the mood, stunk worse than Stink Spirit rollin’ in. Laughed my ass off, tho—prolly scared the masseuse half to death!

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Then, I decide to check out the Two Towers, you know, Le Due Torri. I’m climbing up, and let me tell you, my legs are screaming. I’m sweating like a sinner in church. But the view? OMG, it’s worth it! Bologna sprawls out like a beautiful mess. Red roofs, terracotta everywhere. I’m feeling all poetic, like I should write a sonnet or something.

Today’s Papers: Champions League pile-up, Bologna hold Juventus, Lautaro hope