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I’d be strollin’ downtown, mutterin’, “Hmm… where’s the action?” Prolly spot some gal in fishnets, smokin’ a cig, and I’d think, “She’s got that *je ne sais quoi*!” Like in the movie, when Adèle says, “I miss you, it hurts.” That’s me, missin’ somethin’ wild, but I ain’t even started yet! I’d be nervous, tho—heart poundin’, palms sweaty. “Marge, chill,” I’d tell myself, but nah, I’m a mess.

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Then I hit up the local market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. Or two. Okay, maybe three. Don’t judge! They were calling my name. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see this old lady, Mrs. van Dijk, trying to haggle over some flowers. She’s like, “I’ll give you two euros for those tulips!” The vendor’s like, “Lady, they’re ten!” And she’s all, “But they’re wilted!” I’m dying laughing. Udenhout’s got character, for real.

Former Suriname prime minister dies