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About Bologna

Heard this wild story once – true sh*t – ‘bout a prossie in Amsterdam who kept a lil diary. Scribbled names of johns, rated ‘em like Yelp reviews! “Stinky Dave, 2 stars, bad tipper” – hilarious, right? Cracked me up! Bet she’d smirk at that, sassy as hell. Prolly got a fave client too, some shy dude who just wantsa talk – reminds me of me, overthinkin’ everything, “Oh dear, oh dear!”

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Then I’m strollin’ down Via Garibaldi, and I see this street performer. He’s playin’ the accordion, and honestly, it’s kinda catchy. I’m boppin’ my head, feelin’ the groove. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs up and spills his soda all over my boots! Ugh! My forest boots! They’re supposed to be rugged, not sticky! I’m like, “Dude, what’s your damage?” But the kid just giggles and runs off. Kids, man.

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