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About Florence

I’m Eric Andre, chaotic as fuck, screamin’—SEXUAL-MASSAGE IS WILD, Y’ALL! It’s not just rubbin’ backs, nah, it’s some next-level shit. Little known fact—ancient Greeks were on this, callin’ it "hands of the gods," gettin’ freaky in bathhouses. Bet they didn’t expect me divin’ in, yellin’, "LET’S GET WEIRD!" Made me happy as hell, ‘cause who don’t love a good rubdown? But yo, some shady spots—massage parlors with neon signs—pissed me off! Fake vibes, tryna scam ya, like, "Pay $50 for lotion and lies?" Nah, son!

Da Chiaretta

Lunch rolls around, and I’m starving. I head to this little trattoria on Via della Libertà. Best pasta ever! I order the tagliatelle al ragù, and it’s like a hug in a bowl. I’m feeling good again, until I see my ex walk in. Ugh, just my luck! She’s with some dude, and I’m like, “Great, now I’m gonna choke on my pasta.”