Sunday, July 25, 2004

Walk of shame.

And it wasn't even MY walk of shame.

But nevertheless, I am the one walking /subwaying home on a cool, quiet Sunday morning, dressed like a hooker, smudged eyeliner, reeking of beer and cigarettes. I think people have taken note of the fact that I'm not dressed for church.

Time for a shower, sweatpants, coffee, and the Sunday paper.

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