Turning Shit into Gold since 2006
YOU: Consciously browsing the organic feminine hygiene aisle at the Sun Harvest on S. Lamar.
ME: Looking for recyclable tampons made from trees when your individual beauty struck me. Want to sync moon flows sometime? I work at the Yaya’s Sisterhood Coffee Shoppe on the corner of Bilberry and Huisache. Join me for a cup of java buzzing good times. Am I talking too much? Want to move in together? Cat allergy, but dog friendly. Call me. Bye.
YOU: DILF twirling two fire ropes at Nickelodeon Park while your toddlers flailed and floundered in the large city water fountain.
ME: Allowing my kids meander in the middle of the busy mountain bike path. Maybe we can plan a play date and ignore our children together.
ME: Still waiting for my settlement from that 4th of July fireworks fiasco at your townhouse terrace. Pay up bitch. This weave ain’t gonna grow itself back.
YOU: Freshly fingerless and eyebrow free. I told you that gasoline soaked fireworks were a bad idea. They don’t call you 321 Boom for nothing.