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The El is deafening, cabs never stop honking and people need to shut the hell up.

The worst part is when you can't find a seat and you're forced to breathe your hungover booze breath onto a stranger until they move.

Grease and bread is a hungover necessity, and hot dogs are full of both.

Canvassers are obnoxious all of the time, but they're unbearable when you're hungover.

Even if it lasts 10 seconds, an elevator nap can be a saving grace.

When you're hungover you can hardly taste, so there's really no point to eating good food.

Foreign convenience stores have been behind the downfall of many great people.

You're probably gross and look like a mess. Everyone knows.

Seriously, outside of Ragstock there is nowhere to buy a $5 pair of sunglasses when the sky is unbearably bright.

Who peed on every square inch of the city?

Friedrich Nietzsche had a philosophical maxim dubbed "amor fati," which loosely translates into "love of fate." The gist is that one must live their life as if they'll have to live it over and over again eternally. It makes one question whether that shot of Malört at 2am was really worth it, or whether living in a city full of amazing cocktails and beers is worth the pain the next day. Chicago is an amazing city, but it can leave even the strongest person tumbling down mind-wracked into a deep dark abyss with no hope for rapture other than a humble soothsayer behind the counter at 7/11 telling you that everything will be OK.
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