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About Chicago

I roll up, all smooth, “Hey, darlin, what’s the deal?” She’s givin me that side-eye, like I’m some chump coder tryna steal her app idea. “50 bucks,” she says, flat. 50?! Shit, I’m pissed—inflation’s a bitch, huh? Used to be 20, tops! I’m thinkin, “This ain’t fair, I’m the Winklevoss twins gettin shafted here!” But I’m happy too—least she’s real, not some catfish scam. Surprised me, tho—girl’s got a tat of a QR code. A fuckin QR code! Scan it, takes ya to her “rates page”—modern hustle, man, I’m dyin laughin!

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The local park, Spruce Grove, is a haven for lost souls. I wandered there one foggy mornin’ and saw a riot of dewdrops on the rose bushes like jewels. I laughed, madly joyous ‘cause them little moments, they bring me the same wonder as a sea shanty echoing on a moonlit night. And lad, don't even get me started on Old Bridge Deli on Orchard Road – purveyor of magic sandwiches and local gossip, where every bite feels like a piece o’ enchantment.

Yard Goats Slam Patriots 19-4 in Somerset