ain't NO shame!

The walk of shame, without the shame…
The walk of shame, minus the shame…
The walk of shame, sans shame…

Yup. Each line is funny. And true.

A ten block walk home on a rather mild December day at 9 am can kinda clear the head.
Typically, I would have jumped in a cab and high-tailed it back to the coziness of my home and most important, bed. But today, that wind, the quiet streets and the air told me to pound the pavement the ten blocks home.

I pass windows and catch a glimpse of myself. I don’t look totally like a ho on her way home from a one night stand. No. I prefer to think I’m on way to brunch. Yeah, brunch, assholes. But I do look like a fierce ninja, dressed head to toe black. Or a secret agent. Both are badass and not to be messed with.

For a few steps, it smells like New York. I am suddenly transported there and wonder what it would be like to live there. I really need to get back there.

There is definitely one specific spot in Chicago that reminds me of The Last Guy. And it pisses me off. Sharing a spot in your city with someone and then they make it their own spot in their own unique way can just make a girl want to do a ninja kick in a fit of rage. Alas, energy and fading memories keep this ninja chick at bay.

Pass by a great little card shop. Begin counting the number of cards I will need to buy and the awesome people who will be receiving one filled with my loving words for Christmas. How is it almost Christmas already?

I am kinda loving the brief glances of slight judgment directed at me. I giggle to myself.

I do not have my ipod. Walking without it is bizarre, and yet refreshing.

Mind is feeling clear.

Holy crap. At every intersection, except the one I’m at, I’ve been able to just walk on through. Nice. That’s ninja.

The homestretch is upon me. It’s so nice to reach your neighborhood and to feel like you are a part of the street.

I send a brilliant text. Why must texts be so brief? I really cannot express my stunning wit within the confines of a damn text. Ah, yes. But it is these restrictions that beget greatness. Drink that one in. Drink. It. IN. On the house.

And my front door. And my staircase. And my home. Dorothy had it right, there’s no place like home. Even if it took a shameless walk to get there. No trip to Oz here!

To my hos and haters, much love. I hope you had a rocking weekend.

Lurves-
Ava