Sarah Pandino Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Naples

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

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Hey everyone, let me introduce you to my first car!:) The car is a Fiat Panda Fizz, cc engine with fuel injection.

After that, we hit up the market on Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. It’s packed, like sardines in a can. I’m dodging people left and right, trying not to spill my gelato. I got pistachio, by the way. Best flavor ever. But then, I see this old dude selling fresh pasta. I’m like, “Yo, I need some of that in my life.” So, I grab a bag of tagliatelle, and the guy’s like, “You cook, yes?” I’m like, “Sure, if by cook you mean boil water.”

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