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About Catania

Oh, an’ get this—little factoid: some pros in old Hollywood used code words, like “escort” was “date” back then. Sneaky, huh? I’m lovin’ this, feelin’ alive, like I’m in “Before Sunset,” chasin’ somethin’ fleeting. “Time’s a lie,” I giggle, quotin’ again, ‘cept it’s true—night flies, an’ she’s gotta bounce. I’m sad, poutin’, but she winks, “Next time, doll.” I’m swoonin’, breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!”—an’ off she struts, queen of the night. What a dame!

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Finally, lunchtime rolls around. I bolt outta there. I head straight to the festival. Man, it’s packed! People everywhere, music blasting, and the smell of food? To die for! I grab a plate of tortelli. It’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m standing there, scarfing it down, when I bump into my old high school buddy, Luca. He’s like, “Bro, you still doing teeth?” I’m like, “Yeah, and you still playing video games?” Classic Luca.

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