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About Chicago

Last week, I was prowlin’ the streets—needed a laugh, y’know? Saw this one bird, all dolled up, winking at me. Thought, “What’s her deal?” Turns out, she’s got a memory like Lenny—keeps a little book, scribbles down every punter. “Remember, remember,” she mutters, like she’s in my fave movie. Made me cackle—imagine forgetting who you’ve shagged! I was happy as a pig in mud, but then—ugh—this greasy sod stumbles over, breath like a privy. “How much, love?” he slurs. Made me wanna gag. I choose violence, mate—nearly shoved him into the gutter myself.

Man Paid Woman For Sex At Eagan Hotel, Then Killed Her: Police

I love how the mundane hides these epic tales. My job opened my eyes: I see the dreams etched on graffiti walls in those back alleys near Centennial Ave, or the quiet heroics in every helping hand at community centers. Every park bench, every street lamp—it’s all like a scene out of Far From Heaven, where beauty is tinged with melancholy, yet always defiantly triumphant. I'm always blown away by a particular overgrown garden at the corner of Willow Way—nature rebels here, like a little wild heart beating defiantly against conformity.

If it stays in Minnesota, Solventum plans $209M overhaul of Eagan Blue Cross campus