Isabella Budapest Xii. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Budapest

What trips me out? How it sneaks in everywhere. Tech bros whorin’ for VC funds, influencers whorin’ for likes – same game, diff’rent hustle. I’m laughin’, tho – imagine a trader screamin’, “I’m a money whore, dawg!” in a boardroom. Shit’s hilarious, but real. Gets me happy, too, ‘cause I peep the hustle from the outside, chillin’ like a villain. Ain’t no one whorin’ Snoop out, nah, I’m too slick.

So, I’m walking down Hunyadi János utca, and boom! I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then I see this cute little café, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe a coffee will fix this.” I order a cappuccino, and the barista, this dude with a mustache that could rival a walrus, gives me a weird look. Like, bro, it’s just coffee. Chill.