divorce – aMediocreMan

Dear soccer mom,

Dear Soccer Mom,

Hi there, you don’t know me, but you cut me off today while speeding through a 20 MPH school zone in your extended Chevy Suburban with the stickers on the back window that shows how many children you have.

I’m sure there was a good reason for you endangering the lives of young, innocent school children by blatantly ignoring the speed limit.

Maybe you broke a nail and had a “salon-emergency.”

Maybe one of your fake, silicon tits popped and you had to race to your plastic surgeon’s office before the other 20 soulless, insecure women beat you there.

Maybe you just found out that your husband was banging his much younger than you, much hotter than you, much tighter than you secretary and you were speeding to your lawyer’s office to draw up the divorce papers. Continue reading “Dear soccer mom,”

plastic parade

A-typical Rolex submariner sits on the dad’s wrist like a beacon of arrival.
His too-tight Ed Hardy tee sticks to his cross fit chest like an extra layer of skin.
Those hours in the gym, the broccoli, the grilled chicken, the spinach salads……
Eyes scanning the crowd looking for that 25 year-old who hasn’t yet sunk the Botox into her forehead…….

Wifey to his left, flipping her platinum dyed hair again and again and again.
She, looking for someone to make fun of, looking for someone to help her feel better about her collagen duck-faced lips.

Her third tit job, her fourth anal bleaching, her fifth affair with a new trainer, tattoo reads “MILF” along the panty line that only a select 50 or so willing erections get to see.

She, peering at the younger women while licking her lips with the misguided confidence of an American Idol contestant.

Continue reading “plastic parade”