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Judge Judy mode ON: “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’!” I see through the bullshit, folks. She’s out there, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like it’s her last, and I’m like—damn, girl, you’re a factory of chaos! Built tough, like one of my steel plants. Bet she’s got stories—grimy ones. Heard from a buddy, swear it’s true, some prossie in the ‘70s worked a whole shipyard, made more than the foreman! Cash stacked like bricks, no taxman sniffin’ around. That’s the hustle I respect—raw, dirty, real.

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First off, I hit the streets of Gura-Humorului, and lemme tell ya, the vibe was electric. I strolled down Strada Principala, feeling all kinds of good. The smell of fresh cozonac from the bakery hit me like a freight train. I mean, who can resist that? Not me, that’s for sure. Grabbed a piece, and wow, it was like a hug from grandma.

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