Feliz Cumpleanos

1978 Jason Biggs (actor)

1969 Kim Fields

1968 Tony Hawk (skateboard star)

1966 Stephen Baldwin (actor)

1962 Emilio Estevez (actor)

1963 Vanessa Williams (actor- The New Jack City one.)

1961 Ving Rhames (actor)

1948 Steve Winwood (singer)

1939 Ron Ziegler (journalist)

1938 Susan Hampshire (actress)

1937 George Carlin

1936 Tom Snyder (broadcast journalist)

1929 Burt Bacharach (composer)

1925 Yogi (Lawrence) Berra (baseball)

1820 Florence Nightingale

and me!

This Entry..

reminds me of something a bill collector said to me in one of my numerous heated and accusatory phone calls with bill collectors and gym membership cults.

Me - "I don't have the money, it's plain and simple as that. You can't get blood from a stone."

Bill collector - "The walls of our banks are covered with blood we've gotten from stones"

Yes...I was on the phone arguing a friend's case....not even my own when I provoked one of the craziest comments ever, out of one of those pesky, persistent collectors.

In other words...I am my own bill collector, squeezing an entry out of me, so that I might shake myself out of this rut of sorts and start blogging again, because my lack of entries does not reflect a lack of "things happening" in my life.

Four major 'tings:

1. Survived (but still suffering from) an "Amazing Dumbass Race" aka " Dayna's suicide survival mission impossible" aka "In the name of commercial production" to Ciudad Valles in piss poor Mexico (by raggedy ass truck - not plane.)


2.Survived Coachella, a mega outdoor concert near hotter-than-hell, Palm Springs, with a Mexican parasite actively setting up shop in my spine and lower intestine and only a few rows of * Port-o-sans, for use by the 60,000 drugged and drunk college aged attendees, to comfort me. I did rock out to some cool artists and bands..had to excuse myself from the crowd when the drugged college kids around me started raising their fist for the struggle in unison to rapper, Kanye West. I couldn't take it. 'twas not the crowd for me to see Mr. A.D.D. hyperactive Kanye West live with, fer sure. I braved most performances alone as there were a hella' lot of bands and the variety of friends who were scattered across the fields of Coachella wanted to see bands whose serious bass playing and loud verbage, angered my spine- attached, hard-working mexican parasite.

Madonna, Kanye West, Common, Depeche Mode, Massive Attack, Digable Planets and my absolute fav...worth it all..Damian Marley (Jr. Gong). Those are the artists I caught on stage....no complaints. Except....Madonna's stage.....holy spumoni, I mean outrageously crowded and crazy but my love for Madonna gave me the strength to get right up in the madness, me and a friend (my birthday sister) braved the crazy ass crowds for a glimpse of that "in the shape of her life" Lucky Star.


3. I experienced my first racial slur(?) from a Mexican man, driving a pretty decent car, which I suppose he thought made him instantly superior to this "Black Bitch" who he damn near backed in to, as she strolled up the block she resides on, sipping her coffee (her being me.) Now I'll admit I played my part. I gave the "jerk off" sign to him because of his rude and dangerous actions and he played his part right back. His exact words - "Go back to the ghetto, you black bitch"..and for the first time in my history of dealing with racism....I laughed at a racial slur instead of getting angry. It was such a ridiculous assumption and comment, coming from a dude whose "peoples" are still pretty low on the work and finance food chain in America and then of course, after the nervous laughter..the disappointment in humanity, kicks in. Like, for real? Is this how it's going to go down? Obviously he and his peeps don't know what I know about noisemaking minorities in America...... I yelled back some ignorant stuff that I won't share. Though, I don't think it was too bad, considering his offense. Anyways, After driving 14 hours through the four levels of Mexico...Poor Poor, Dog Poor, Piss Poor and S%^$ poor, and picking up a friendly parasite who loves me as host, I have to say, I would take flight with my own wingless appendages trying to get the hell out of Mexico, were I a resident. I'm not even trying to go there for vacation after my life changing experience.
I said I was ending this didn't I.....okay....ending....right....now.

4. Due to the "Amazing Dumbass Race" I went on in the name of production, I have had to re-evaluate my life decisions and job decisions. I prefer to care and be cared about....if caring is a business flaw....then I stand before the work world.....FLAWED. So to find something more suitable to a chick that gives a damn about humans, I have taken on the responsibility of "Talent Manager extraodinaire", (the outrageous earning potential doesn't hurt either)....still working on the extraordinaire part and still working in commercial production to pay bills......oh these dream careers of mine.

It is said that we all have three careers inside of us.....

My first one was...Perennial college student. Bopping around here and there, doing what I wanted first and then handling business....ie.....late for my job because I was still on line for the MTV wannabe a VJ contest (nothing ventured......). That was me right up until......today.

In the great words of Madonna (human nature) - ABSOLUTELY NO REGRETS! (except failing to buy aol stock in the early 90's.)

Second one is writing (that's right...paid or not.)

And the third one......Artist (talent) management. It's my calling and I've run from it for years and I mean years (I've also run from the Artists). But with the recent shift of my life....childhood - over as of 3/20/2006 adulthood - beginning 5/8/2006, I'm ready, I suppose, to take on the R word....it's been banned from my vocabulary...just shown in some of my actions, but now I'll use it...RESPONSIBILITY....whew!!! that didn't hurt too much.

I'd like to push my official adulthood date back as well.....let's say 5/12/2006...a day of great importance in my life, every year since 1972. Yeah...4 more days to act like an irresponsible cooky bean and then....shuffllepapertime, begins...yawn, in a very on the edge of something new but, sh%& is really all the same, kind of way.

(Also went to see Mission Impossible on it's release date to see what all the hoopla was about.)

Damn I got a lot of blood from that stone.

footnote - I do not use port-o-sans...i'd rather go out in the wilds of nature and I did....scoopoftruth's the name...giving a scoop or so of the truth is the game.

In search of....

The will to care.


Going to Mexico for ten days or so. Hopefully I'll feel like blogging again when I get back.

AN ANGEL SPROUTS HER WINGS

Rain showers taper off to a light sprinkle.
A simple seed advances to a blooming bud.
Beams of sun burn through dark clouds.
A stalk peeks its narrow head through the mud.
A flower commences to life on earth.
And Mother Nature is made aware of her worth.

A human seed takes root through love.
A tiny heart, find it's first beat.
Protective walls of love form in a womb.
A baby in waiting discovers his feet.
Unbreakable bonds take form through birth.
And a woman, turned mother, is made aware of her worth.

Tears of joy, replace those of grief.
Birds chirp soul-easing songs of release.
God's heart smiles, the bells of heaven ring.
And Saint's gather in choir-like fashion to sing.

Every time......an angel sprouts her wings. ©

-Dayna Clark


For my beloved Great-Grandmother, who though she has left this trivial world in body, has created a legacy of love on earth and will always reign supreme in my heart. I am forever grateful for my Great-Angel, Minnie Pearl Clark.

Chappelle's Block Party

Finally went to see a movie....it's been a long spell.

Dave Chappelle's Block Party. I was afraid but hopeful. I wondered if this Block Party would have a plot, in the manner of most movies and what would it be. This was an official block party. A warm hug from a big loving southern Grandmother. That's what Chappelle's Block Party was for me. It didn't need a climax, beginning and end it just needed to be seen. It was a feel good about being black, about loving live music, about loving comedy, and embracing chaos that may surface in between. It was like being in a village in Africa, free to enjoy the things "we" (black folks) love without being made to feel predictable and petty for posessing the ability to find happiness through song, through drums, horns, percussion and piano. All the while eating fried chicken, watermelon and drinking malt liquor (kidding).

One of my all time favorite "things", "people" are black college marching bands. Chappelle's block party features a surprise performance by Central State University's marching band...thick sisters, with thick thighs stepping to the tunes of big brothers playing the tuba and drums, it's just too much wonderfulness to stand. And though regretfully I have to travel to the racist south to see them..... They are.....I can't really find the words. Just the feelings....they feel alive, vibrant, vivid, moving, inspirational and just plain out make you want to dance and celebrate and even worth the trip (except Atlanta) to the south.


Chappelle's block party made me homesick for New York, for Brooklyn, for little nameless holes in the walls with impromptu jam sessions and herbalicious filled air. We're talking......Erykah Badu, The Fugees, Common, Mos Def, Kanye West, The Roots, and Talib Kweli. With Dave Chappelle and all his hilarious glory offering laughter and comfort in between these incredible performances. I didn't even mind Jill Scott ,who, though I appreciate her existence in the music world, her overall demeanor annoys the hell out of me...she reminds me of a know it all annoying (big) girl in high school who was (or wished to be) the head of the Drama class. All these gifted passionate artist on stage together sans the top-billing ego's that usually go along with this kind of musician stage party...it usually becomes a battle of who gets more time and blah, blah, blah, blah...these artists jammed on stage while the other's performed, waited in the background, hung out and chilled. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Now I can't say if little arguments broke out or not but from an audience member's view....it looked as beautiful and loving as a harmonizing (baptist) church choir. You know how the choir rocks back and forth and claps while the soloist sings his or her heart out.....like that.

And I must address the resurfacing of my beloved Lauryn Hill, whose shirt I'm wearing today. No shame in my game, I have a Lauryn Hill hand-me-down shirt and it is one of my favorite shirts. Seriously. It's a simple black shirt with a donkey on it and I love it. And so does everybody else it seems, I get many compliments and comments when I wear it. And it has lasted through my harsh washings (everything must be wash and wear) for years. Thanks much Lauryn, if you see me on your front lawn it's because I'd like you to throw more wonderful used clothing down to me. :-) My point in bringing up Lauryn Hill.....Pras (the very fortunate third member of The Fugees) addressed in the movie how much of a fan he is of Lauryn Hill's despite the fact that he is in the group with her. Yes, Prakazrel (Pras), recognize. I guess he had to be left out in the cold, starving before the swelling of his ego went down enough for him to see the truth.....He and Wyclef are beyond fortunate and lucky for Lauryn Hill. Without her, Wyclef is a producer, not a featured artist....Producer, nothing wrong with that, unless you have a big head and think you are the S%^$ alone. Recognize boys that without the "Girl", and I mean "The Girl" not some stand in...The Fugees would NEVER make it, nobody would care. Wyclef should be sending fresh flowers of thanks to Lauryn, each and every day and Pras should be sacrficing goats to his God in deep gratitude.

I wait with bated breath for the soundtrack to Chappelle's Block Party to be released. I will conduct my own make believe jam session in Los Angeles.

Good Eats

Asia De Cuba

Located inside the so-called trendy Mondrian Hotel on Sunset in West Hollywood. Rumor has it, when the hotel revamped they fired all the brutha's who worked the door, because they were going for a certain look. That's right, I put them on blast because I noticed the change myself. But I digress.....

I went there for a birthday dinner. We ordered a bus load of appetizers and entrees and dined family style.

Stand out delights:

Butter Fish
Oxtail Spring Rolls with Mango Salsa
Lobster Mashed Potatoes
Plaintain Fried Rice with Avocado
Tuna Tartar
Calamari-banana salad


My Friend had to raise the dead to get them to seat eight people without the other two scheduled....ten in total...which I find to be a bit extra...you've got eight diners coming to spend a nice hunk of change...birthday cake already ordered in back..and you're willing to allow these people to leave in anger instead of being accommodating...If they wanted to obsess about something, they should've been focused on the condition of their ladies bathroom....it was an abomination to God....truly. I mean if that is how high society trashes a toilet....then the women who used the bathroom that night....wealthy or whatever, should be institutionalized immediately.

Once the buzz of the lovely Cabernet the waiter recommended, kicked in, I approached the hostess about the condition of the bathroom. I told her I was a travel writer who loved to address the condition of bathrooms in swanky restaurants and how I didn't want to mention the condition of their bathroom, because I enjoyed the food so. She was all.......Sorry and Oh my Gosh, Becky, and this never happens and yadda, yadda, yadda.....but seriously I've only seen the likes in a Starbucks in Times Square.

So....The hoopla of the food....Above average. The hoopla of the ambiance....average. The hoopla of a fancy, yet neglected and trashed bathroom.....Gross me out.

I'll go back....for the Plaintain Fried Rice and Tuna Tartar, and the waiter who suggested the smoothest Cabernet I've had to date (can't remember the name, dammit) but not for the "scene".

Walk the Quote Land Three

"Be the change you want to see in the world"

"As long as you derive inner help and comfort from anything, keep it."

-Mahatma Gandhi



"If you scatter thorns, don't go barefoot."

-Italian Proverb



"Sometimes I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me."

"I want a busy life, a just mind, and a timely death"

-Zora Neale Hurston



"If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people."

"I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual."

I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.

"If we didn't live venturously, plucking the wild goat by the beard, and trembling over precipices, we should never be depressed, I've no doubt; but already should be faded, fatalistic and aged."

-Virginia Woolf



"Nothing will work unless you do."

"Self-pity in its early stages is as snug as a feather mattress. Only when it hardens does it become uncomfortable."

-Maya Angelou



And because laughter always helps.....


I don't have false teeth. Do you think I'd buy teeth like these?

-Carol Burnett


"Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck."

"I have as much authority as the Pope, I just don't have as many people who believe it."

"May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house."

-George Carlin


The trouble with some women is that they get all excited about nothing-and then marry him.
-Cher



"Reality is a crutch for people who can't handle drugs."

"We are all in this together, by ourselves."

"Why isn't there a special name for the tops of your feet?"

"Why is it that when we talk to God we're said to be praying, but when God talks to us we're schizophrenic?"

-Lily Tomlin

Coping

A blessing in the form of a job related emergency allowed me to visit my family and friends in New York and New Jersey...One full day....in and out.

I stepped off the plane, checked my messages....My Grandmother who has been like a mother to me is in the hospital and has been since Wednesday. I could not have found out at a better time. My family is learning to respect my emotional limitations and my being 3,000 miles away from an emergency which involves my favorite person in the world is Numero Uno on the list of causing me to have a neurological breakdown. Hearing and not seeing makes things a hundred times worse. I was able to get the message and then go see for myself....the situation at hand. She's 92 years old and anytime I tell the age to people whose Grandmother's were distant old Grandmother's not second mother's like mine, they look at me like I'm crazy for being so distraught instead of being grateful she's been healthy and great up until now.....Screw all of that. I don't care if she's 115 years old.....she is the love of my life. I have found my own strength through the strength of this wonderful woman......Minnie Pearl. And now I have to figure out how to be strong for her.

I spent my Saturday bedside by one of the greatest women to ever grace earth. Basking in the glow of my beloved Great-Grandma who I lived with for fourteen years. And who I've been told must officially go to a nursing home..this woman who is completely aware of her situation and horrified at the thought of never going home again....and with this news my spirit has forever changed and I'm just working on keeping a positive appreciation for this gift of life and all it's glory while really feeling like jumping off a cliff.

I am finishing up the book "The Red Tent, in this life-saving great read, the daughter and narrator of the book makes a comment about being grateful for not being around to witness the pain, suffering and passing of her mother, aunts and all her loved ones. She missed them terribly, she worried and felt guilty for not being there to offer help and support but....still grateful for not being around to witness the agony and pain.

One word......AMEN!!!!!!!

I have moments where I feel like I should move back to New Jersey to make sure my Grandma is as comfortable as possible seeing as how her worse nightmare is coming true....to be poked at and prodded in a nursing home until the end of her days( the horror)......I should be there to make sure her hair stays clean and beautiful and to make sure her beautiful skin stays soft and supple through the loving application of pure Karite Shea butter and to make sure her nails stay trimmed and filed. She has a few dozen grandchildren and great-grands who live in the area and go to visit...but I am the self-ordained favorite and these thoughts plague me, though this may be one mission I fail because......I can't take it. When I look into my beloved Grandma's eyes, I can see her frustration and embarrasment at her condition.......that she will never cook another meal on this earth, or care for another child or sit with her favorite Grandaughter and enjoy the Fisherman's seafood platter (her favorite) at Red Lobster or just pick up a piece of f%*&in' paper off the ground (she mentioned the paper to me herself) .....it breaks my heart in to five billion llittle pieces and the despair becomes to much for me to handle. I can't even believe I'm able to write about it like this, but I also feel I must or else I will turn into dust and crumble to the ground.

It seems human suffering and tragedy are hitting home like a tornado leaving sad and defeated bodies piled up all around and all I can manage to do is escape to Los Angeles where denial IS a river in egypt and in LA and I intend to jump in head first...where I'll probably suffer a concussion because we all know how shallow the river of denial is although my tears might help deepen it....some of the best advice I ever got...came from my friend Luis.....it's okay to cry, sometimes we just need to.....AMEN....and I'm okay with it...so I've taken to crying whenever and wherever....in the cab, on the plane while ordering coffee from the flight attendant, in the office, at the laundromat, at the post office....wherever...it feels damn good. It's the holding it in that hurts.

This move to the west, though emotionally, physically and financially taxing as hell, has saved my life and I'm working so hard to hold on the the reality of how "Living Life" can really save one's life. The people I've met...bad and good, fun and boring have all helped me.....and I, like Dinah, in "The Red Tent", am grateful.

But I still have my moments. Sad moments where I think of somehow rigging a knife so that I might collapse on it and split my pained heart in two. Yes, like that. Thank the big God of little fishes that these are MOMENTS....and they pass. And then I get up and get out and go live the life I've been blessed with instead of living in a constant state of life threatening despair over things I can't control.

Writing helps.....it really does....but reality is harsh....it really is.

Thank God for great memories, moments, photos and recording devices of all kinds.

Things I pondered.....

while suffering for two weeks with no computer or television in my home..


Why do some people's second toe and second to last toe grow above the other toes and some don't?

How many pieces of paper does one get from your average tree?

That new ad for Black Cherry Coca-Cola......."Black Cherry kissed by Vanilla".......a bit risque...no?

What's the deal with my tongue? It takes some serious concentration to keep it completely still while looking at it. Is that me or everyone?

Did Chevy Chase rename himself after the city in Maryland or vice-versa?

Who created soap? And how did they decide those were the correct ingredients to clean a human body?

All men (and women) are not really created equal because ........God bless the person who took the initiative to create indoor plumbing.....seriously.

Rejoice....

If the rumors are true that Bobby Brown feels his career is boosted enough for him to leave his Provider aka Wife aka Whitney Houston. It's her and her daughter's only chance at a happy ending. I am revisiting an old post from when that stupid show first aired......

Originally posted 7/17/2005...

Desperate Jackass forces prideful lioness wife to air business for the sake of peace and harmony on the homefront.....the new name for "Being Bobby Brown".
I have not seen the show and am actively avoiding seeing it. I've seen it all before. Dysfunctional obsessive love for being in a dysfunctional obsessive love. I've heard enough and read enough about it to last me a lifetime. I may have even been in a few....short-lived....

Let me start by saying..my love and adoration for Whitney Houston spans two decades and up until this moment I have exercised my right to remain silent on her personal life. Because........

1. Is it really my business (although I kinda feel like it is, but not in a star gossipy way, more of a concerned cousin kind of way.)

and

2. Is it really your business

But now that she has signed a contract for all the world to see, I am officially prepared to release a statement.

My heart breaks for what I see when I look at this life Whitney Houston has been fooled into living.

What Whitney as performer has done for me...1987...was the first year I saw Whitney live and it was my first "Hey this is the greatest singer I've ever heard". I was gone. Completely won over and on my way to being the biggest Whitney fan of all times...I really am....I'm not trying to prove it...it is what it is. Framed photos of Whitney are on my walls (plural) Unconditional fan. I'm sure I am here (meaning alive and thriving) because of my love for Whitney Houston...Kept a depressed suicidal 15 year old girl preoccupied...guided me to Arista Records as an intern and from there begins my crazy life in the world of entertainment. I am working in the entertainment industry right now because I wanted to work at Whitney's record label.

We're talking about 1991.....I was brizzzzzoke (broke) out of my mind....half working, half going to school, half just figuring out where I wanted to be in the world and what kind of person I wanted to be (a decision more people should spend time on.) Owned a raggedy ass 1987 mitsubishi mirage. It looked nice enough but man....don't sit still in traffic....the fumes were out of control...but it got me all around New Jersey and New York, in to and out of all kinds of mischief...more importantly it got my ass to Hershey, Pennsylvania to see my favorite singer/entertainer.

To this day, I have not felt the kind of thrill I felt at this concert. My cousin(invited herself) and friend(fellow Whitney fan) came along...My friend's financial situation was worse than mine....I with my no money havin' yet determined self..wound up paying for her as well. But my cousin...God Bless her.....had some dough and God Bless her again...I'll never forget what she did for me and my friend....Paid the extra cash for second row center seats....We would've been sitting on the lawn....instead....a scalper came to us...I had not one extra cent (had to make sure I had gas money home) My cousin paid for me and my friend. She barely knew my friend. I actually need to drop my cousin a note and some photos from that day....over 14 years ago...One of the best days of my life....not to mention how we spent the day in Hershey Park, met Whitney's dancers and her brother, hung out with them for a little bit and kept it movin' and I won a huge stuffed animal. Security thought I was bringing it for Whitney, wrong, that was for my Great-Grandma. It was Babs Bunny and she is still in my Great-Grandma's room, right now in the year 2005 thank you very much...If I had given it to Whitney, Bobby would have thrown it out of a window in some angry fit.
Waited for hours outside her tour bus....the crew kept telling me she had left...I mean the woman who played piano in the band tried to tell me Whitney had already left....yeah right....I waited and waited...backed down a one way street in the smoke-mobile and my poor cousin and friend had no choice but to wait with me..My cousin started to complain...I turned a deaf ear to her and walked closer to Whitney's tour bus.....and guess what.....after hours...Whitney was tired and I'm sure not in the mood...I asked "Whitney will you take a picture with me?" she stopped, her security stopped, she turned to look at me....studied my face for a moment (I guess saw the painful desperation and took pity on me ) walked away from her security and towards me...."Okay, baby come on" as she stretched her arm out to me.....GOOD GUGAMOOGA....I could've died right then...
Yeah baby, I have too many "Oh my God I just met Whitney" moments.....I'll share later..if it comes up. All this to say I was a huge fan, And still a huge fan , except I'm older and I have more of an indepth understanding for life..its fulfillment and its disappointments and how this might affect an "individual".

Whitney the "individual" not "entity" is what I see and have seen and every time I see her now...My heart breaks a little more. I wish I could carry the addictions for this woman....kick them for her and allow her to regain the light she has allowed her "betrothed" to smother out. Seriously...

Bobby Brown is obsessed with fame and stuck in a nostalgic box of memories of his former fame.....he is failing, has failed, at his current career, which is father and husband and being a grown ass man.....It's a job and he is not on it...when someone fails at his or her job what usually follows is his being fired. Fire that fool. I wish an angel would come to Whitney in the night pack her and Bobbi Kristina's belongings....move them, while they remain asleep, out of GEORGIA (I will address my contempt for this place at another time) and either back to some remote town in New Jersey or California or Florida.....or out of the damn country. And somehow magically keep Bobby Brown held captive in the house they once shared (like the ghosts in beetlejuice).....Just leave the whole scene behind and focus on her daughter and kicking her addictions...one being addicted to her husband...addicted to chaos and aggravation. I understand those addictions and I also understand the only way to kick them is to put some space between yourself and whoever or whatever you're addicted to....It's impossible to kick something when it's staring you right in the face. Remove yourself from the situation and take the blinding goggles off so you can see how crazy things really are.

Every time I see Bobby Brown shucking and jiving for the camera (other places, not "his" new show) I'm reminded of a scene in The Five Heartbeats when the washed up ego maniac of a drug addict ex-lead singer shows up..all beat down.....talking about TA-DA...donning an old shirt from one of their performances.....Pitiful.
Bobby Brown was never, will never, has never been the King of R&B. If he's the King in the Houston-Brown household so be it...but give the rest of the world a break. And please give me a break. I can't take it. I get it. I totally understand it. But I can't take it.

Instead of being grateful for the life and wealth Whitney has provided him with he's mad about it. Trying to make her believe something's wrong with her cause' he's the man. Classic scene. Except this one is on a more public scale.....Some of the best advice I've ever heard was in Forrest Gump (I love this movie and will refer to it many more times)....Some kids were coming to harrass Little Forrest....His best friend Jenny, yelled "Run, Forrest, Run"....to my Whitney I give similar advice..."Run Whitney, Run." and take that little girl with you. It's not to late. Look at Tina Turner, she ran, late, but better late than never. You can still live the great life God planned for you and get out of the life the Devil tricked you into believing you were supposed to live.



P.S....when I say unconditional fan...I have met Whitney when she's not in the greatest of moods....and got my feelings hurt a little but I've also met her at her best and she treated me wonderfully.....everyone has a bad day...Rich, broke, star, unknown whatever and we all get burned by someone in a bad mood....from a Judge who had an argument with his wife before coming to work...to a doctor who's not feeling too well but still performing an operation....to the guy in charge of french fries at the fast food restaurant and lastly a celebrity....I'd rather fall victim to a cranky celebrity than a cranky judge deciding my fate or some angry french fry guy dropping fries on the floor or throwing gross objects into the fryer with my fries.

And don't get it twisted....back in the day..Loved me some Bobby Brown....My Prerogative and Every Little Step...what....he was a dancing and entertaining fool.....turned ego maniac....the young R&B girls have Usher now Bobby, hang up your dancing shoes and feel pleased about making room for the next generation of dancing fools....and either love her or leave her....don't stick around hating on her....

Houston he has a problem....

Bobby Brown is to Whitney Houston what the moon is to a werewolf.....a terrible influence.










What a fool believes he sees, no wise man has the power to reason away.

-WHAT A FOOL BELIEVES (written by Michael McDonald & Kenny Loggins) performed by the Doobie Brothers..

Which Doobie you be??????