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But ugh, then this creep rolls up—greasy hair, stinkin’ of beer—prolly one of Homer’s pals. He’s all, “How much, baby?” and I’m ragin’ inside, like, “Leave her alone, jerk!” She handles it tho—sass level 100—tells him to buzz off. I’m cheerin’ in my head, “That’s my girl!” Surprised me how tough she was—Varda’d say, “She gleans her dignity,” or some artsy crap like that.

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But then, out of nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, really rain. Everyone’s scrambling for cover, and I’m just standing there, laughing like a maniac. “This is how you know it’s a party!” I shout.

Goa's St Roque Church: A perfect example of total heritage conservation