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About Palermo

So, I’d prolly hit up downtown, where the neon buzzes like a broke fridge. D’oh! Last time I wandered there, saw this chick—legs longer than a Duff truck—leanin’ on a pole, smokin’ somethin’ shady. Made me mad, tho—why’s she gotta look so bored? Like, c’mon, lady, I’m riskin’ Marge’s wrath here! But then I got happy—heard she charges less if ya bring snacks. Mmm… donuts. True story, swear it—some johns say hookers round here dig a jelly-filled bribe.

Key takeaways

Next, I wander down to the Porto Antico. The harbor is beautiful, man. Boats everywhere, and the sea breeze is just perfect. I’m thinkin’ about life, you know? Like, why am I crunching numbers when I could be sailing the Mediterranean? But then I see this seagull. And this seagull? It’s eyeing my sandwich. I swear, it was plotting my demise. I had to defend my lunch like it was the last meal on Earth.

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