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About Genoa

So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

Hookups in Turin

After that, I decided to stroll down Corso Francia. It’s a nice street, lots of shops and stuff. I’m just vibin’, listening to my tunes, when I hear this loud honking. I look up, and it’s this dude in a tiny car, like a clown car or something, trying to parallel park. He’s all over the place! I’m standing there, laughing my ass off. Like, bro, it’s not that hard!

Using Medieval DNA to track the barbarian spread into Italy