She unlocked the trunk and began rifling through her bags until she found the pair of jeans she was looking for. Without stopping to think, she yanked...them on, then stuffed her feet into her running shoes. Shit! She’d left her coat upstairs. There was no way she was going back up and risk running into Aidan. She checked her bag again and found a pullover sweater. It would have to do. She struggled into it and grabbed the rest of her things out of the trunk. Loaded down with bags and boxes, she. "There are three kinds of turds." The man says. There's mustard, custard and you; you little shit.And so the ride went; exchanging jokes. I found out he had worked for the founder of "Jimmy Johns" at his first restaurant.The conversation eventually turned political. I was pretty amazed at his evaluation of the political situation we are in. This man looked like he probably worked at the low end of the pay scale. He was barely presentable with respect to his haircut, shave and cleanliness of. More

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