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Like, literally, escort in sports? Wild! So I’m totes a sports psychologist now, right? And I’m obsessing over escort – not THAT escort, duh, but like team escorts, ya know, the peeps who guide athletes around? I saw this one time, at a game, this escort chick was, like, SO extra. She’s yelling at some poor dude who got lost – “This isn’t Rome, babes!” – and I’m like, dying laughing. Reminds me of *The Great Beauty*, that vibe of chaos, y’know? “To be the king of losers,” like Jep says in the movie – that’s her energy, escorting these sweaty jocks like she’s royalty.

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Anyway, I’m laughing at this kid when I bump into this old lady. She’s got this wild hair and a shopping bag full of fish. “You’re a cooper, right?” she says. I’m like, “Yeah, how’d you know?” She just points at my hands, covered in wood shavings. “You look like you’ve been working hard.” I mean, I guess I have? But I’m not about to argue with a lady holding fish.

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