Not Ranked
Tongue:
I've spent the last 18 years trying to figure out how to put pressure on that mini me mafia type.
Whenever I think that I'm getting somewhere, I generally walk away and later find that someone's been in my wallet.
An example was this past Tuesday evening. I had to drive to Danbury to meet PEPI for supper at Chuck's Steak House. We had the usual shrimp cocktail and rib-eyes. Nattered about a number of topics, handed him a check and picked up the tab for dinner. And this was an evening of therapy? I figure I got away, as usual, cheap.
J
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