un-piacere-mia-bella

[un-piacere-mia-bella]

i’m convinced they mix that powdered cheese product with chalk powder to make that cocaine looking stuff that comes in the green can. like i’m sorry, but if you want the real taste of italy, go to any place where they shave it off the big wheels. literally every authentic italian restaurant has that. i know because i’ve had it before. unfortunate the only/closest thing i’ve got to parmigiano-reggiano that’s easily obtainable and doesn’t require an airplane ticket is that shit that comes in the green can in aisle five at the food lion i can simply bike to. and the real crime? you pay the exact same price for that shit.

[un-piacere-mia-bella]

just saw the cutest looking sheriff’s deputy at the local wawa, he was coming out of the restrooms as i was going in. he had a porno stache full throttle, and all he gruffly muttered was a ‘scuse me. and he was in full khaki uniform, brimmed hat and all. omg! what do i do? what do i say? do i get his number? oh and ps, he was around my height! you never see that in cops! y’know, normally i wait for the man to make the first move, as i am very wary and conscious of execution, but like what?! should i actually bite the bullet this time? 🤭 i wonder what kind of music he likes ??? 🤔

[un-piacere-mia-bella]

try as you might, you will not be able to escape the smell of pot in nyc. it lurks and lingers and wafts and breezes and the contact buzz will hit oh so suddenly and you will be unable to escape it.

[un-piacere-mia-bella]

yearning to find myself a british-born 6 foot italian dilf who oft gets mistaken for an eccentric gay uncle with a wine cellar in his basement and his accent is just so rich and thick when he’s just waking up and he knows how to give good oral like *damn* fine oral and he *holidays* and doesn’t let me forget or regret being beside him cause he’s a professional romantic (who gets mistaken for a lady killer but he only knows how to kill with kindness) and oh my god he just smells like the amalfi coast and fresh leather and suede because *damn* he’s that rich and he’s such a bodyguard around you it kills you cause he *knows* hot to be that damn boyfriend!!!

oh and bonus points if he’s a record producer or recording artist and this is his aesthetic

and your view every morning is just so damn perfect when you and him wake up together and take your ritualistic jog to the market

and y’all make frequent trips to the tennis courts and the vineyards and to his mother’s house and to the tasting rooms and to every overpriced salon and boutique along the cobblestone street