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About Chicago

Alright, so I’m Ron Swanson—deadpan, “I hate everything.” Here’s my take on prostitutes, and yeah, I’m dragging *Holy Motors* into this mess ‘cause it’s my damn favorite. Picture this: a dame workin’ the streets, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like she’s in a French film. “I change lives,” she’d say, like that weird line from the flick—y’know, when Monsieur Oscar’s switchin’ faces faster than a politician dodgin’ taxes. I hate that artsy crap, but it fits her. She’s a shapeshifter too, playin’ sweet for one john, tough for the next.

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The neighborhoods are a labyrinth. Eastside’s rough—bustling, gritty. West End’s classier—sleek cafes with overpriced lattes. And on misty nights by the Harbor Bridge, every damn soul seems lost in thought. I crack jokes about it daily with my massage pals. Come on, it's not rocket science, right?

Treasure Island restaurants to get a much-needed break