He Was Stoned (As In Rhine)

Sweet smelling shit. A beautifully enchanting, brilliantly framed, overtly talented, stunning piece of sweet smelling shit-creatively disguised as modern art. I was entranced. I briefly inherited this sensational treasure only a few years ago. Soon after acquiring this small fortune, I caught wind of its many admirers. I decided it was better suited in the hands of a buyer that gave it the gallantry it so desperately demanded. Don't get me wrong, I adore the arts, but there are countless times I passed over a priceless stockpile for an overrated antique. I have the consistent misfortune of falling for the big flashy rhinestoned bobbles and passing by the diamond in disguise. I recently stumbled across the breathtaking subject towards the end of last year. Even more charming than the years before, I was intrigued by its presence. He was something wonderful I do admit, though he consistently fell short of my personal appraisal. He was inside-out pretty, but his effort was more Zales quality with a touch of QVC and nothing near Tiffany's. There were times I would rock that stone like it  was snatched right of the neck of your local half-assed Emcee but I'm no Rapper. Week 3. Moving right along.