Grace Posillipo Brothel ❤️

About Bologna

Pissed me off once, though. Some stunad stiffed a girl, ran out laughin’. I’m like, “Buddy, you don’t fuck with family!” Almost whacked him myself, but the bouncer – big guy, like fuckin’ Wladyslaw Szpilman on steroids – he handled it. Tossed him out like trash. Good riddance. Surprised me too, how tight-knit it is. Like a crew. They got each other’s backs. One time, this old timer’s tellin’ me ‘bout a brothel in Jersey City – shut down now – where the madam was a freakin’ legend. Cooked pasta for the girls every Sunday. Gabagool, sausage, the works! Kept ‘em fed, kept ‘em loyal. Ain’t that somethin’?

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After that, we head to Via Manzoni for lunch. I’m starving! We hit this little trattoria. The pasta? To die for! I’m talking fresh, homemade, the kind that makes you forget your problems. But then, the waiter spills wine all over my lap. I’m soaked! I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a sponge!” But hey, at least the food was good.

Ian Posillipo - North Rockland Hockey