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About Rome

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially prostitutes. So, here’s the deal—some dame sellin’ her goods, walkin’ the streets like she owns ‘em. Makes me mad, real mad. All that struttin’, stinkin’ of cheap perfume, ugh. Reminds me of “Tabu”—that flick I love. “She had a lover in every port,” they said. Yeah, this chick probably does too. Disgusting. Skirt hiked up, lips redder than a baboon’s ass—sorry, ape’s ass, whatever. Point is, she’s out there, hustlin’, and I’m over here, judgin’.

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Finally, I made it to the job site on Via San Rocco. It was a mess. I mean, I love my job, but today? Ugh. The surface I was supposed to blast was all rusty and gross. I was like, “Seriously? Who let this happen?” I had to spend an hour just prepping the area. Not what I signed up for, man. But hey, at least the view was nice. You could see the hills in the distance, and the sun was shining. Kinda made it worth it, I guess.

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