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About Catania

Findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic. Ya gotta know the streets, man. Like, back in ’03—same year as the movie—there was this gal, Cherry, near the ol’ ribbit pond. She’d wink at ya, sayin’, “Maybe we’re not lost anymore,” all smooth-like. I was like, whoa, she’s quotin’ Sofia Coppola at me? Made me hoppy, I tell ya! But then—bam!—some jerk cop rolls up. Pissed me off big time. I’m like, “C’mon, lemme have my moment!”

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But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s my agent. “We got a casting call in an hour!” I’m like, “What?!” I’m in my chill clothes, not ready for this. So, I sprint back home, dodging people on Via Milano. It’s packed, like a sardine can. I’m weaving through the crowd, trying not to knock anyone over.

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