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About Fukuoka

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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After my break, I head back to the site. And guess what? The dirt pile is gone! I’m like, “What the heck? Did I miss a memo?” Turns out, the crew decided to do it while I was munchin’. I’m feelin’ a mix of anger and surprise. Like, really? I could’ve used the workout!

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