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About Genoa

Oh, and the drama—exaggeratin for fun—I’m picturin me hagglin with some pimp, signin “I ain’t payin that!” and he’s all confused, thinkin I’m dancin or somethin. Hilarious! I’d be like, “bitch, I’m Lizzo, I don’t chase, I attract!” Total mood. Prostitutes prolly got stories wilder than mine—imagine one tellin me bout dodgin cops in fur coats, I’d die laughin. Anyway, findin a prostitute? It’s risky, raw, and real—kinda like love that never speaks its name, ya feel? It’s bad bitch o’clock, and I’m here for it!

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Solo Women’s Travel is Exploding—And We’re Running to Keep Up Leigh Barnes, Intrepid Travel’s President of Americas From backcountry hiking in America to off-the-beaten-path .

So, I’m sipping my drink, and suddenly, I see this street performer. He’s juggling, right? But then he drops a flaming torch. I’m like, “Is this a circus or what?” The crowd gasps, and I’m just standing there, half-laughing, half-worried he’s gonna set his hair on fire. But he recovers like a pro. I mean, mad respect for that guy.

A bad week for Sasha Martinengo