Dare to dream.
I love me some trashy, reality TV. I do have limits, but I’ll admit, I find Billy The Exterminator, sweet, Toddlers and Tiara’s mind-boggling and a Hoarder’s marathon? Don’t even think about interrupting me. But my all time favorite is Bravo’s Real Housewives franchise. And even though each season more and more of these ladies get divorced, lose their fortunes and dignity for their 15 minutes, I keep watching, rooting, discussing and most of all, judging the shit out of these ladies.
So when I heard that there was some drama brewing in New York City yoga circles – like a car accident, I couldn’t turn away. If you too like some asinine with your asana, head over to Shine to read my post.