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About Chicago

Where I’m at, it’s all hush-hush. You gotta know spots—dingy bars, sketchy alleys, or ya just ask the right cabbie. Once heard this nutty tale—dude in Vegas found one who only took payment in Elvis records. True story? Who knows! Got me laughin’, tho—imagine her stackin’ “Hound Dog” 45s, struttin’ off. Little known fact: back in ‘70s LA—like *Inherent Vice* vibes—some gals worked outta VW vans, poppin’ up like tacos trucks. Groovy, right?

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The closer you get to the Tanglewood neighborhood, the higher the price generally. But yeah, the closer you are to the galleria area.

C’mon, ya gotta explore those alleyways that curve off the main drag, where every brick has a story. Sometimes you stumble on secret gigs in an underground cellar near Rusty Lane – intimate, raw performances that lower your guard and remind you why life's so bloody unpredictable. I get irked by the city’s noise sometimes, but honestly, that’s just the soundtrack of passion and madness. Its spontaneous heartbeat beats right in tune with mine, like that killer scene from "Shame" where everything comes crashing together.

Lacey fire crews quickly put out a house fire Tuesday, but four cats didn’t make it out