maternal support.

So a few weeks ago, I realized I was broke. Not the regular broke that I am every day, but a new low. There was about $15 in my bank account... and I still had Christmas presents to purchase. When I saw the contents of my account, I immediately started looking around my room for something I could sell that wasn't my body. But I could find nothing. I went downstairs and ended up talking to Tyra on the phone about the siutation. During the conversation, I was telling her that I might have to start dancing on the pole. My mom was in the background saying that sometimes you gotta do, what you gotta do. A little bit later I was in my mom's room and I asked her if she would be upset if I started stripping. Do you know what she said?

"What? Why? I would not care if you were a stripper. Someone's gotta do it. But if you were a prostitute, that I'd have a problem with. But go ahead and dance if you need the money."

Now that is unconditional motherly love. There's nothing in this world like it.

What kind of fuckery is this...?

This is a text conversation that took place between my cousion, Magical T, and myself...talking about a video that our hairdresser told her about. The state of America saddens me.

Magical T: Stephen says it's another video out...2 men and a horse...and the horse kills one of the men.
Tyra Nicole: WHAT? What the hell are they doing with the horse. I hope not what I'm thinking. How did he die? Was the horse that "big"? What is wrong with the world? We got to do better.
Magical T: He was doing what you think... I gotta see it.
Tyra Nicole: I don't want to...I gotta see it. How the fuck do people come up with this shit?

Can anyone answer this question?

The Dream that won't end.

For the past couple of night...since the mega millions jackpot has been b-a-n-a-n-a-s...I have had the same dream. That I'm rich, bitch! No but seriously...this dream is fucking fabulous. I'm walking down the streets of NYC with Cee, and these other fabulous bitches I don't know, having a grand old time. The click of our Louboutins against the concrete is the sweetest sound I've ever heard. So since we are now bitches who lunch we head to our town car (because these shoes are made for show...not walking), and go off to the Gramercy Tavern. Oh yes, we were there. Once that is finished...we head to Fifth Avenue. Can you say Dolce & Gabbana, Prada, Gucci, Chanel, and Bergdorf’s? It’s a crime to be this fabulous. The sound of the scanner beeping my purchases...and the lack of hearing "This card is declined" as I drop 50G's brings a tear to my eye. Le Sigh.

The rest of the night is spent partying it up in the VIP section of some of the hottest clubs. My phone rings...and I'm leaving my girls for places unknown. In dream world next thing I know, I'm at an apartment and someone opens the door. Lord let this dream never end. Standing there is the hottest dude I’ve seen in a long time. Blue eyes, gorgeous smile, sexy body…is he really mine? Thank you dream Gods. As he pulls me into the apartment, I feel reality seeping in. Fuck you reality…I’m staying here. But before my coat even comes off he is gone…and I’m back in my bed…poor. I sit there trying to replay this dream before I check my mega millions ticket…holding on to that last hope.

So obviously didn’t win…because I would have much better things to do then writing this blog…like swimming in my millions. So this is the dream that keeps haunting me every time the mega millions has a drawing. Please God make my dreams a reality.

victoria's secret fashion show.

Last week, CBS aired the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. I've been watching it every year, I think. Here's a mini text conversation I had with Tyra.

CEE: Watching Vicky's fashion show... Why wasn't I born tall? Because I truly believe that's the only reason I'm not walking in this show.
TYRA: That's the only reason? Would you walk the hell out of that runway? Go on Top Model and show those tall bitches what little people can do.

true friend (n): someone who believes in your dreams.

goodbye, beantown dream.

Me and Tyra wanted desperately to go to Boston for New Year's Eve this year. Desperately. We have been searching expedia and travelocity for at least two months now, I think. But the prices were insane! Crazy flight times (around 6:30 am to get there and 10:00 am to get back) and the hotels we wanted were gonna be $450 per person. The cheapest ones were at the Norman Bates looking spots. And that's highly unacceptable.

But we kept looking anyway. Then the prices went down to about $400. But that was too much. Our goal was to get significantly under $400. We're broke, ok? Broke. We're trying to do better, but we are most certainly not there yet.

Well, yesterday I decide to go back on the travel sites and check the prices out again. And do you know what I saw? The hotel that I wanted to stay at more than any other choice plus a decent time flight for $310 per person. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Insanity. Unfortunately, we were still too broke for that. A damn shame, you hear me? A damn shame.

This is how the text conversation with Tyra went about said situation:

Me: Dec 29 - Jan 1, Beacon Hill, $310 per person.
Tyra: That sounds good. So what should we do?
Me: I don't know! I'm so nervous. What do you think?
Tyra: I'm nervous, too. That's why I want you to make the decision.
Me: I think we're in a recession and far too broke for these awesome prices. And it pains me to say that.
Tyra: You know it's bad when we can't even afford $310. That makes me sad. I was just envisioning our trip to Boston. We looked happy.
Me: Were we hanging out with hot Beantown men?
Tyra: Yeah. We were the most fabulous chicks in Beantown. We didn't have to pay for drinks. I need my down payment on happiness soon.

If I was rich, we would never have had that conversation. It's just a damn shame.

if i only had some extra dollars.

I watched the Rachel Zoe Project when it was on. And anyone that watched it or knows about her knows that she always says "I die" when she sees something she thinks is amazing or that she really likes (she also tends to say "shut it down" when someone is wearing the hell out of an outfit). I've adopted "I die." And that's how I feel about these shoes.

I die and I covet.

No Money, No Honey

Pastor Kerney is speaking to me...you can't make love when your broke...that shit is just not physically possible. But buy me some Louboutins, and take me on a trip to Europe...and we can get it on all night. When will my down payment on happiness ever come?

Random

Is it still considered cheating if you have sex with a ghost? And not a ghost of the Casper kind, but one that looks like your dead fiance. Oh, can someone bring my old show back. I can. Next post will be scene one of the new Grey's Anatomy. Yeah Bitches, I'm in thw writers seat now.

how i would spend brewster's millions.

I was talking to Tyra a few days ago and for some reason she mentioned Brewster's Millions, a movie with Richard Pryor, that I had heard of but never seen and didn't know anything about. Well, it seems the idea of the movie is for Brewster (Pryor) to spend $30 million in thirty days. Tyra was saying how she didn't know if she could do it, but she'd damn sure love to try. I, on the other hand, believe I could do it. And I believe that Brewster's ass just was not thinking. So, I'm thinking, "How hard could it be??" Spend $30 million in 30 days and at the end get $300 million for your troubles. Insanity. I wish someone would offer me this challenge. I know I would shut it down. What I'm going to do every now and then is detail how I would spend that money. Now, it's going to take me longer than Brewster just because I actually have to do research for prices and whatnot. If I were actually in the moment, I'd just spend it and let the accountant worry about the stuff (he's got one in the movie). Then, Tyra tells me there are stipulations to how the money can be spent. They are as follows:

1. At the end of the 30 days, he may not own any assets that are not already his.
2. He must get value for the services of anyone he hires.
   
3. He may donate only 5% to charity and lose another 5% by gambling.
4. He may not waste the money by buying expensive goods and then destroying them or giving them away.
   
5. He is not allowed to tell anyone about the nature of this challenge.

Now, number five is the easiest of them all, as I'm not in the habit of telling people my business anyway (despite the fact that I have a blog... you know what I mean). Besides that, me and Tyra already have a DO BETTER alert/signal in place for instances such as this. For example, if I were to be granted these funds, I would then call Tyra and say this exact code phrase, "Pack your bags, WE'RE DOING BETTER!" And vice versa. If Ty wins the mega-millions, she'll call and say, "Get to the airport. We're DOING BETTER!" (We've both decided that the first item on our agenda is a trip to Europe, hence the packing of bags and airport references.) As far as my family goes... Honestly? I just wouldn't invite them. They ask a LOT of questions. And I can't have those kinds of distractions. They're more than welcome to the money I get afterwards, but my mother, father, and sister will be sworn to secrecy with the threat of being written out of any gifts if they part their lips. My other friends, I'll tell them to shut up and like it or go away - I got things to do!

So there's the intro to how I would spend Brewster's millions. When I get some free time, I'll do some research and detail Day 1.

Even if you in a Benz...

Greetings my fellow broke ass folks! Because I trust that if you have straight cash, you wouldn't be reading this blog right about now. You've already met my fellow whore, Cee, but I'm the other whore...Tyra Nicole. Yes bitches, I'm so fabulous one name can't sustain me.

A little bit about myself single, sexy, 5'5 with brown eyes...oh, wait. It's not that kind of party. Like my counterpart...I do enjoy Grey's Anatomy, Ugly Betty, and 90210. I also love Gossip Girl and Heroes. As well as Tequila and general whore behavior. I attend Morgan State University as a pyschology major. What can I say...I love the crazies. I also was switched at birth with Paris Hilton. I'm the real heiress. Did you really think that bitch deserved that money...negro please.

I have a perchant for expensive things, australians, spaniards (I'll take Rafa), and the mega millions. I also love mottos that have a profound affect on my life, such as: We got to do better, think about the generation after you (don't marry ugly me ladies), and one of my faves from the past, I wasn't meant to live like this...so true. I know you feel my pain Cee.

That's the introduction...that I wrote and posted while at work, doing work, and looking for a new job. Damn, talk about multi-tasking. Anybody need an employee?

introducing c.

As stated above, this blog has two authors. Me and Tyra. And we plan for it to be about things we like, things we think are funny, and... probably things we don't like, too. First, I'm gonna introduce myself because I can't think of a real entry to write yet.

I'm 23 years old. I am temporarily located in Georgia, born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. I adore professional football, the AST Dew Tour (I do so love Daniel Dhers, Sheckler, Mike Spinner, and James Foster), and tennis (Rafa Nadal, anyone?). I don't believe I'm short, I prefer to think of myself as fun size. I am a UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA GATOR through and through. Cut me open, I bleed orange and blue. True story.

As much as I love television, I only watch 3 shows when they actually air - Ugly Betty, Grey's Anatomy, and the new 90210 (a new addiction). I think Kanye West and Suze Orman speak the truth to my life. I love fashion, and by that I mean to say I love to torture myself looking at things I cannot afford. Me & Tyra both believe that we will DO BETTER and that the quickest route to doing so would probably be winning the lottery. Obviously, we haven't won yet. If we had, we wouldn't have time for a blog. We'd be busy doing whatever rich people that don't need to work do.

And that'll be it for today.