…and the bastard initially wanted him to shut the hell up with his conversation about Russian family obligations with the lady in front of me…
… but it was really my sore knee and her 25 half gallons of orange juice.
but when it was my turn, comrade chattinski starts chatting about the hood…
… and the bastard tells him more about his living history than his wife would like…
… and he says he's not much of a manhattan guy.
I concur having lived there for a little bit.
manhattan is good and all but it puts the claustrophobic on you.
and comrade asks me, "so… queens or manhattan?"
and the bastard responds, "queens… every time"
billy dee would be smiling.
—the bastard
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