It’s called Ghetto Cinderella, and it stars me. We find me a nice, sexy, humorous, wealthy, single/widower/divorced man, with or without teenaged kids, and he and I get married. Then it’s all about my adventures as a bitch with money. A fish out of water thing. So that America can fantasize about “if it happened to them.” I’m the antidote to the Real Housewives.
Doesn’t that sound fabulous? I tell you, I’m highly entertaining. I do little dances and have quirky character voices I use emphasize points in conversation, and I make weird faces. I can explore what it’s like to tell the kids to put on sweaters! The heating bill costs more than rent did in my apartment! Oh, Stepmom, you have money now. And I’ll do the Troop in my socks in the marble hallway. I’ll make them beans and rice in the crockpot and scandalize them when I call it a “crotchpot,” and they’ll say it’s too hot! I only used three Habeñeros. And I’ll do the Stanky Legg in my socks in the granite-appointed kitchen.
I’ll teach them to drive stick! They’ll teach me about the carat ratings. I’ll teach them to do the Electric Slide! They’ll teach me the rules to polo. It’ll be grand. A lot of, “I can’t afford that.” Oh Stepmom, you have money now. And I’ll do the HwhirlHwind™ (that’s my signature move–it’s hot) in my new boots.
Oh, and I’ll make:
- the anorexic daughter eat, because you’re going to fucking die if you don’t;
- the drunk daughter put some panties on and sober the fuck up, because you’re fourteen, and you’re too young to be a ho;
- the son stop saying, “nigga,” because that shit ain’t cute; and
- if anyone is a senior in high school, their ass is getting an after school job.
So! Everyone on board? Let’s find me a man and get this project underway! Here’s the most current picture I have of myself. I’m not wearing makeup or dressed up. I’m not as cute as I can be. BUT LET’S FIND ME THE MAN AND MAKE THIS HAPPEN. I am tired of only turning on the heat one hour a day like it’s wartime and shit. Fucking student loans. Pound of flesh, right off my left ass cheek, I tell you.
I am far more serious about all of this than I wish I were. We become what we laugh at, we become what we hate. Bravo, call me.