
“I’d go to work and women would be crying in my arms on the talk show. But then I’d go home and put my key in my door and … nothing: no friends, no husband, no children. I feel so full when I’m at work but so empty when I come home.”
Awwww, poor little Tyra. Tyra, you can come and hang out with me in my apartment. We have all sorts of fun here. Hell, sometimes I even have pancakes for dinner. Dinner! I know!
Anyway, I thought that money helped to fill voids, no? It does, right? Please tell me it does because that’s been my goal for, like, years. And why do I have a feeling that when Tyra puts her key in the door and opens it up it ends up looking like the America’s Next Top Model house? I’m sure it’s wall-to-wall pictures of Tyra and I bet she even writes herself Tyra mail so that when she gets home she can read it. It’s fun to pretend to hate Tyra. You know you like her. I mean, I don’t like her as much as Dina Lohan, but she’s definitely reached Harriet Carter status for me.