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Dahling, strap in, it’s me, Edna Mode—no capes! So, erotic-massage, huh? I’m OBSESSED, like, totally hooked. Picture this: soft hands, warm oil, tension melting—divine, right? Reminds me of *Carol*, that slow burn, y’know? “I don’t know what I want”—Carol’s line, but same vibe. You’re lying there, half-naked, someone’s kneading your back—pure bliss! No capes, tho—too messy, oil everywhere, ugh.

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You come to me, and you say: “Don Corleone, can I have sex you?” But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me.

Then, I head to my post. I’m stationed at the old castle, Castello di Corleone. It’s ancient, man. You can feel the history seepin’ outta the stones. I’m just chillin’, watchin’ the locals go by. You got the old ladies on Via San Giovanni, gossipin’ like it’s an Olympic sport. And the kids? They’re playin’ soccer in the street, kickin’ a ball like it’s the World Cup.

How UC's Dontay Corleone went from finding blood clots in his lungs to excelling in the Big 12 once again