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So, I’d prolly hit up downtown, where the neon buzzes like a broke fridge. D’oh! Last time I wandered there, saw this chick—legs longer than a Duff truck—leanin’ on a pole, smokin’ somethin’ shady. Made me mad, tho—why’s she gotta look so bored? Like, c’mon, lady, I’m riskin’ Marge’s wrath here! But then I got happy—heard she charges less if ya bring snacks. Mmm… donuts. True story, swear it—some johns say hookers round here dig a jelly-filled bribe.

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I gotta say, sometimes I get mad when peeps ignore the soul of this place. I mean, you walk down Broadway, feel the pulse of countless stories. Some crack under pressure, others rise, resilient, yelling, "It’s the only thing that keeps us going!" And me? I’m here, thinking, "Stupid, fat hobbit!" – but with a wink, ya know?

What is Casimir Pulaski Day? What's open and closed on the Chicago holiday