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About Florence

So, I’m there, right? Lady’s rubbin’ me down, an’ I’m like, “This ain’t no regular backrub!” Felt like Anton Chigurh sneakin’ up—quiet, intense, bam! Hands where the sun don’t shine! Made me happy as hell, but—D’oh!—kinda pissed too. Cost me 50 bucks extra! Total rip-off, man! Thought in my head: “Homer, you dumbass, why’d ya say yes?” But, oof, felt good—real good. Little secret: some pros use weird oils, like from freaky plants in Asia. Smelled like Marge’s cookin’ gone wrong—surprised me big time!

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Then, I decide to take a breather at the park by the lake. It’s beautiful there, ya know? The water’s glistening, and the ducks are quackin’. I plop down on a bench, and for a moment, I forget about the chaos. But then, outta nowhere, a kid runs by, kickin’ a soccer ball. The ball hits my leg, and I’m like, “Seriously?!” The kid just giggles and runs off. I’m thinkin’, “What’s next? A meteor shower?”

Francesco Facchinetti: bio, career, controversy and his wife Wilma