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So, you’re lookin’? Check the dark corners—alleys, pubs, them sketchy spots. Coin talks, but don’t be a twat—haggle a bit, keeps it fun. Watch yer back, tho—some’ll rob ya blind, others’ll cling like a bad rash. Me, I’d rather drink than shag half the time—saves the hassle. Oh, and if ya find a good one, tip her extra. “The shame’s on us,” as *Caché* says—don’t be a cheap prick. That’s me wisdom, mate—now sod off and lemme refill me cup!

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www.facebook.com › /01/08 › us-news › bogalusa-mayor-tyrin-truongarr.

Oh, and the local quirks! Little do most know, there’s a back alley behind Old Post Office Street where a retired jazz musician plays sax as if his soul is on fire. It sends shivers, man—like a secret love note whispered at midnight. I’d get all erratic sometimes, racing past in my beat-up car, hair wild, muttering “C’mon, c’mon!” as if chasing a dream or a bad memory.

Bogalusa firefighters and Mayor Truong clash over station closures and budget cuts