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About Bologna

Oh, and the oils—lavender, ylang-ylang, freaky aphrodisiacs—smells like lust in a bottle! Ever tried it? Bet it’d wake ya up more than Siri screamin “ALARM!” in your ear. Tho, gotta say, some overdo it—had a pal who stank like a perfume bomb after, hilarious! Me? I’d prob spill the oil everywhere, clumsy as hell. “I’ve got nothing left,” like in the movie—me after attemptin that slick shit myself.

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So, I finish my coffee and ask the barista where to get that tortellini. He points me to a place down the street, Trattoria da Nino. I’m pumped! I head out, but then I get distracted. There’s this street performer on Via Garibaldi, playin’ the accordion like a boss. I stop to watch, and suddenly, I’m feelin’ all the feels. Like, how can someone make music that good? I toss him a couple of euros, and he gives me a nod. I’m like, “Yeah, I’m a generous forest master!”

Ferrari 499Ps among the frontrunners on Friday at Imola