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About Genoa

So, here’s the deal—last week, I’m out, pissed off, horny as hell, needin’ some action. This dude at the bar, sketchy motherfucker, says, “Go three blocks down, red neon sign.” I’m like, cool, sounds legit, right? WRONG! Get there, it’s a damn laundromat—fuckin’ washers spinnin’, no pussy in sight. I’m yellin’, “Motherfucker, who’s playin’ me?!” People stare, I don’t give a shit. That’s when I learned—never trust a drunk tip, ever.

Turin Sex Guide

Man, what a day! I woke up in Collegno, and I swear, I thought it was just gonna be another chill day. But nah, life had other plans. First off, I hit up Via Roma for my morning coffee. You know, the usual spot. The barista, Marco, he’s a legend. But today? He spilled my cappuccino all over the counter. Like, dude, really? I mean, I get it, we all have our off days, but c'mon!

Immigration and integration shaped the elites of the Lombard era