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About Bologna

Ever hear ‘bout them temple hookers? Ancient Babylon—screwin’ for the gods! Sacred and sleazy, love that twist. Me, I’d be a shitty john—too loud, too coked up, ha! “You’re all a bunch of fuckin’ assholes!”—that’s me yellin’ at the prudes judgin’ ‘em. Prostitutes, they’re survivors, man, real talk. Next time you see one, tip your hat—or your cash, whatever works!

Escorts in Progreso

It's a few blocks south of Galleria, one block east. Red curtain in the doorway. The low-lifes and poor and drunkards and hookers hang out there.

Next, we swing by the old market on Via Cavour. Man, the smells! Fresh bread, fish, and that weird cheese that smells like feet. I’m starving, but no time to eat. Marco’s gotta focus. But then, he spots a gelato stand. “Can we stop?” he asks. I’m like, “Dude, you’re driving, not on vacation!”

Progresso Soup Drops, Explained—Has Convenience Culture Reached Its Peak?