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About Florence

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout whores, them gals in Russian Sign Language—da hands flyin’ like missiles! Whore, see, it’s a word, gets folks riled up, makes me madder’n a wet hen. I reckon it’s ‘cause it’s slung ‘round like mud on a pig farm. Fool me once, shame on—uh, you know, shame on somebody! Can’t fool me twice, no siree, I’m sharp as a tack—well, maybe a dull one.

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We gear up, and I’m feeling pumped. The water’s cold, but whatever. I dive in, and it’s like entering another world. Fish everywhere! I’m talking colors that don’t even exist on land. I’m swimming around, feeling like a mermaid or something. Then, outta nowhere, I see this massive catfish. Like, bigger than my dog! I freak out, but then I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a fish.”

Christmas Mass in Florence: where and when