The Lululemon Posse


Beep.  Beep.

Not Talking About You.  But, Her, That Ewe.  You’re No Sweet Innocent Lil’ Lamb.

“When Diva Terrorista Meets Too Much Time On Those Manicured Claws.”

Spewing Bitter.  All Over The Barn Yard.  The Web is your Evil Pasture. Continue reading “The Lululemon Posse”

Play Nice


Is What I Heard Him Say …    

Annunciated phonics.


Delivered in a dialect void of thought, reason and purpose.

I doubt Hope was anywhere to be found … and Forgiveness as foreign as Love … in his hub of a miserable life.

Brandishing Hate – at will – fermented by misdirected rage was all he could offer leaning through the open window of his pick up truck. Continue reading “Play Nice”