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About Hamilton

Ey, Gabagool? Ova here! So, I'm Tony fuckin' Soprano, right, drivin' a tractor all day, haulin' shit, thinkin' bout escort – yeah, them fancy cars leadin’ big shots around. Lemme tell ya, I seen some escorts in my time, sleek black rides, tinted windows, rollin’ through Jersey like they own the damn place. Reminds me of that flick, *White Material*, ya know? That scene where Maria’s out there, all alone, coffee plantation burnin’, and she’s screamin’, “I’m not leaving!” – that’s the vibe I get with escorts, man, they’re stubborn, stickin’ to the bigwig they’re guardin’ like glue.

Our own son threatened to evict us

Adventure is a hugely subjective thing when it comes to travel. On the one hand there are nice railway tours of France badged as adventures.

Maple St. and Bells Rd. cut through the city. The local landmark, Hawthorne Park, sits proud. There’s also Bells Bridge spanning the river. The water runs cool like my morning espresso. "If I could only die a little," I mutter sometimes – feels like a line from Inherent Vice, ya know?

Retirement residence in Bells Corners hosts ‘thank you’ lunch for firefighters who battled nearby blaze