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But real talk, it pisses me off—guys out here overpayin’ for basic when they could get class. Like, why settle for some rando when you can find one with *flair*? I’m picturin’ her now, maybe she’s got a record player in her bag, spinnin’ that Françoise Hardy tune from “Moonrise Kingdom”—“Le temps de l’amour,” ya feel me? That’s the vibe I’m chasin’. None of this cheap-ass, “wham, bam” crap. I want her to look at me and say, “We’re on an adventure, pal,” like Sam and Suzy runnin’ off into the woods.

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Sing Roxanne and see which ones react; those are your prostitutes. All others are undercover www.facebook.comg: Naguabo.

As I’m leaving, I bump into my buddy Carlos. He’s got this wild story about a fishing trip gone wrong. Apparently, he caught a huge fish, but it flopped outta his hands and back into the ocean. I’m dying laughing. Only Carlos, man.

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