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.