Evelyn Tuscania Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Genoa

Oi mate, ‘ere’s me, Ozzy fuckin’ Osbourne – mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah! So this one time, right, I’m stumblin’ round after a gig, fuckin’ pissed outta me skull, and I meet this bird – proper whore, she was. Legs up to ‘ere, tits out, smellin’ like cheap fags and desperation. Reminds me o’ that bit in “Yi Yi” – y’know, “Life’s a fuckin’ dream, innit?” – ‘cept her dream’s more like a nightmare on a street corner.

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So, I’m wandering around, and I bump into this little market on Via della Libertà. Fresh veggies, handmade stuff, and I’m like a kid in a candy store. I grab some local cheese and bread. I’m ready for a picnic! But then, I see this old lady selling these weird-looking olives. I’m curious, right? I ask her about them, and she starts telling me this long story about how they’re from some ancient tree. I’m nodding, but inside I’m like, “Lady, I just wanted to know if they’re good.”

The Scottish island that buried hundreds of US soldiers during WWI