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About Chicago

So I’m thinkin’, if I was in *Toni Erdmann*, I’d probly pull some prank—show up with fake teeth, scare the hell outta her, yell, “Who wants to party with Daddy?!” Haha, classic. But real shit, I’m wonderin’—what’s her deal? Is she cool with this gig or just tryna eat? Blows my mind how people just… roll with it. Back in the day, they’d even mark brothels with stone dicks carved in the road—talk about GPS for horny dudes! Cracks me up, but damn, that’s history for ya.

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I dig ramblin' about neighborhoods too, man. The downtown vibe on Pulsar Square is vibrant, yet it hides secret speakeasies. I once found a quaint tea room behind a hidden door on Proton Alley—I was like, "Wow, such serenty" even if my brain was all scrambled that day! Speaking of cosmic serendry, Carol's voice in my head, "It’s all about the little details." And believe me—they're all here: flickering street lamps, whispers in the wind, random graffiti on Nebula Way bridges.

Myra 'Mike' Flecker