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Anyways, I’d probly suck at this. “Call it, friendo,” I’d say to some lady, tryin’ to sound cool. She’d just stare, like, “What’s this fat guy on about?” I’d be all nervous, thinkin’, “Homer, you idiot, this ain’t Springfield!” But then – whoa! – one time I saw this chick with a tattoo of a donut on her arm. “Mmm… donuts.” Nearly asked her out just for that!

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy asking if I wanna hit the pub later. I’m like, “Sure, why not?” So, I head to the local pub on the Voorstraat. It’s cozy, filled with locals. I grab a drink, and we start chatting.

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