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About Philadelphia

So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

City Scores and Ratings

Then there’s the historic district – Honeycomb Lane. Old houses with a story to tell, creakin’ in the wind. Folks say some of 'em are haunted by good ol’ memories. I always find a sparkle in folks’ eyes when I share tidbits of their past. Just like that crazy, dazzling dream of Moulin Rouge!, “we’re all part of the same parade.” Ain’t that somethin’?

Revenues expected with new casino opening Monday in Chicago Southland