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About Drogheda

Alright, listen up, you degenerates. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially this touchy-feely crap. Erotic-massage? Pfft, glorified rubdown for perverts. Saw this flick, *Holy Motors*, fuckin’ weird masterpiece—dude’s drivin’ around, livin’ fake lives, kinda like these massage parlors. “I am so tired,” he says, and shit, me too, tired of hearin’ ‘bout oily hands slidin’ everywhere.

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Man, what a day! I swear, Marino (ie) never ceases to amaze me. I woke up, and the sun was blazin’ like it was tryin’ to fry an egg on the pavement. I’m a picador, right? So, I’m used to the heat, but this was next level. I grabbed my coffee from that little spot on Via Garibaldi. You know the one? The barista there is a legend. He knows my order by heart. “Caffè doppio, no sugar!” I shout, and he just nods.

Monty’s Eurovision Countdown 2025 Part 30 – San Marino