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About Chicago

So, prostitute—street crawler, right? Sells flesh for coin, sneaky an’ sad. Heard this tale once—true stuff, swear it! Some lass in old London, 1800s, worked the docks. Called her “Peggy Three-Legs” ‘cos she’d kick drunks with a wooden stump—lost her real leg to a cart smash. Fierce, she was! Made me grin, thinkin’ of her bashin’ heads, but then—ugh—we hates it! Stinks of desperation, don’t it? Like “Under the Skin,” all hollow eyes an’ fake smiles. “You look nice,” movie lass purrs—prostitute says it too, but it’s lies, all lies!

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A runaway teen from Maryland is home after police said a man helped her engage in prostitution at several Virginia hotels, according to Prince William County.

The neighborhood vibe, though, is lit. Check out Eastbrooke. It's full of quirky little cafes (yeah, there’s one called “Truth Bombs”) where I sometimes bump into folks seeking counseling or just venting. I've spilled more secrets there than my own diary, and sometimes I even cry giggly – weird, huh? And ya gotta try the “spotlight specials” at Big Joe’s Diner on Elm Street. I swear, those burgers are a metaphor for life – smoke, mess, but oh so satisfying.

A commuter’s guide to using Virginia’s new 66 Express Lanes