Fright Fair

Last week a friend invited me to "Fright Fair, Scream Park After Dark". It's part of a Halloween Harvest Festival at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, California.

He treated me to the full service scare - Corn Maze, Haunted House and Haunted Trail.

Now I think of myself as a pretty tough individual but boy oh boy and girl oh girl did I lose it.

My Step-Grandmother used to always tell me I was ass backwards because I felt safer in the street with hoodlums than in our house (with a security system) and I'll say on this day, October 26, 2006 over 20 years later....She is correct.

I'll take the evil I know, anyday, over monsters, ghouls, demons and the likes. Make believe, shmake believe. There is a line from Toni Morrison's book, Song of Solomon, it reads "What difference do it make if the thing you're scared of is real or not?" AMEN to that. If I jump out of a high-rise window trying to escape a make-believe monster, I'll still wind up scattered on the sidewalk.

So...We get there..... LATE. We get to the Haunted house and we're told...."The creatures are on a 10 minute break" You think that would help ease the fear, once you are told creatures have to eat and take bathroom breaks...but no, not at all.

First of all...If I ever go to another Haunted House or Cornfield, I need to go with a GROUP of people. It was just the two of us and because they were about to close...it was really just the two of us. I wasn't safe walking in front of him, I wasn't safe walking behind him. I wasn't safe jumping on his back. There was no safe haven. I needed one more body to sandwich myself between. It was outrageously horrifying to me. Opening doors and walking through different rooms with different horrible and bloody scenarios. Sometimes we'd hear moaning in the next room, so we'd know we were in for it and sometimes the creatures (dressed up teenagers, I'm sure) would come from behind.

It's amazing how a grown woman such as myself and a grown man such as my friend..we'll call him K for short, completely lost our senses in a Haunted House set up in the middle of a field on a College Campus. And the screaming....I hit notes I never thought possible and I really didn't realize how much I was screaming until K let me know about it. The screaming was innate..I couldn't stop.

I still can't decide which was scarier...the Haunted house or the Haunted Trail (in the middle of a cornfield). Actually, as I type this I realize, CORNFIELD! Mucho scary as hell. I mean, who wasn't horrified at the thought of " Children of the Corn" and a cornfield all by itself is scary enough. But add monsters, ghouls, fools with chainsaws and the memory of that screen ode to dysfunctional kids in a field and you've got the recipe for a FIRST CLASS HEART ATTACK.

And, I, of course was wearing heels (never wear heels) but when an invite comes in, ya gotta roll with the punches.

Punch 1 - Heels in a haunted cornfield.

The first scare was a big football playing looking child of the corn. And man for a big guy he chased me a longggggg time. Because when he jumped out, I went back to my days of high school as a 100 yard dash sprinter. The problem with me, is I am a sprinter. I am incapable of long distance running, apparently even when a 350 pound monster in blood drenched overalls chases me in a cornfield. K, who I wouldn't let out of my sight, went down as well and had the nerve to wave the ghoul on...telling him to go get her. Her being "eat my dust" Dayna. I was sprinting right out of his realm until ..BOOM..I took a hella dive. Here's some advice - Don't run with scissors OR in heels. And they were boots with heels, good solid heels, but I'm a flip-flop girl. So I went down.......hard. I'm not ashamed to say it. Jumped up caught my breath and took off running again (still trying to get the grass and dirt stains out of my favorite jeans.) There was no end to the cornfield and no end to the amount of creatures jumping out from behind the stalks.

Finally K, caught up, because I could no longer run. I even told a monster to just keep me. I mean it was really unbelievable. The deep, heartfelt horror of it all. The pain in my chest from screaming AND sprinting at the same time. They should add that to the Olympics roster - Horror sprinting. You have to run for 200 yards while screaming the whole time.

When we emerged from the horrifying haunted trail. We both were sore, it was like a horrifying work out at the gym. A "hurt so good" feeling. Crazy. I slept like a baby that night. Until I heard a noise in my kitchen around 4am. I'm certain it was a creature from the cornfield (grown world traveled woman here) but I can't be sure.

Eddie Murphy does a stand up joke about the difference between white and black people when it comes to being scared. He uses Poltergeist as an example.. A White family buys a new house, hears a ghost say "get out" and they invite other people over to come hear the ghost. A Black family buys a new house, hears a ghost say "get out" and they take the ghosts advice. I felt similar when I heard the noise/creature in my kitchen, I didn't get up and leave, but I sure as hell didn't get up and go investigate. I just moved the stungun closer to the bed and layered my sleepwear in case I had to escape through the window.

But after all of the fear, the running, the screaming, the busting of my ass, the staining of my jeans and so on and so forth....I had a slap ass good time. I really did. A horrifying and gratifying good time. But I'm not going back. No haunted houses and trails for at least 3 years. I mean the whole concept is brilliant! You walk in with your lips twisted in disbelief and you walk out humbled because you damn near wet your pants. Brilliant!!! Though I suspected I'd be an easy target, just didn't know the level of horror. And thank the Big God of little Fishes, I wasn't drunk or on any hallucinogenic drugs. I would've been featured on eyewitness news.

Thanks K-MAN. Let's have more fun, more fun!!!!! Oh, Halloween in West Hollywood. I haven't done that since I moved to California. I'm working that day, but I'm dedicated to making it. We'll see.

This is the entrance....other than those lights....DARKNESS!!!!!

We love fabulous gay men....

So if all these so called straight shooter left wing "closeted" bible-belt Republican males just embraced their desires and picked up a copy of Diana Ross' greatest hits...and a Barbara Streisand box set.....wouldn't life be grand. Although, the thought of Mark Foley, in drag....not so much.

The issue here, is not that this man is/was a closeted Republican, it's that he decided he likes, little soft "confused" boys, who are looking to be mentored, not molested. He decided to take advantage of a situation, instead of being a responsible grown gay male, who takes the time to DATE other grown gay males. Nothing wrong with that. Something way wrong with seducing young "confused" males who are probably only going along with it based on his position of "power." Sad...sad...sad....and disgusting. I mean if these boys ARE gay, would that old, ugly man be their first choice of a love interest.....hell no.

I'm sure the parents of these boys were so proud of their sons, so happy for the career path they were on. Then they learn, the career path was really just male prostitution. God help an old man who'd try that on an offspring of mine. I hope to raise a child who would take the inappropriate solicitation, first, to me and then, second, to eyewitness news. I can't imagine....What was Foley trying to create, a new legacy of confused Republican, molested males to take over Congress one day. What he did to these boys is beyond unfair, selfish and nasty...it's beyond. Okay, so you have these thoughts and feelings towards little boys that you can't seem to control. Then move to a mountain and live alone or seek psychiatric help. You selfish bastard. Now you've got several boys who have to grow into men and function in society with the memory and public humiliation of some old stinky Congressman who took advantage of them. A vicious cycle of abuse.

It's funny how, because this guy is Republican...every excuse in the book is being brought to light for his sexual deviance...he was molested and yadda, yadda, yadda. And when Michael Jackson's dysfunction came out, nobody cared or excused his alleged inappropriate behavior with kids, whose own PARENTS dropped them off at grown ass Micheal Jackson's house. I wonder who molested Michael and if and when that comes to light, will he be excused for "unproven" lewd acts.

And oh how they are going on and on about....these, being, just text messages and Foley, never had sex with any of these boys. Of course he did. Maybe not all of them but at least one. Or some kind of inappropriate sexual act with a minor... of the same sex for God's sake. Come on. Denial really is a river in Egypt when a Republican's dirt is aired. If this guy was a democrat, he would've been exiled and dropped in the middle of the Sahara dessert. "They" would magically find old condoms and bottles of alcohol with leftover DNA from the teenage pages in the deviant democrats house. So I see why the wicked claim Republican...you get away with doing a busload of grimy stuff. And if by chance, you do get caught....no matter how heinous the crime....you get a tiny slap on the hand to keep the public quiet and then you get a gift basket filled with chocolates and champagne as an apology for the public slap on the hand your cohorts were FORCED to give to appease the masses.

Outrageous!! But all things come to light. So I've said this before and I'll say it again and I feel the same way about myself....If you don't want anyone to know about some shady shit you're doing.....Don't do it. Because if one other human knows, rest assured, several know. And eventually you'll have to deal with whatever it is you were trying to hide or deny.

This man, Foley, makes enough money to go get therapy for his sick addiction. And that's what he shouldv'e done. But we live in a society where if you have enough power and money, you and several fools under you, will start to believe your own bullshit of...."Whatever I want I can have and whatever I want to do is okay" And with several yes men or women whispering behind your back but not telling you to your face how sick and disgusting you are.....you are never checked and the monster just grows and grows. This dude was really throwing stones in a glass house. Good for the Aide who ratted him out. I'm usually not a fan of rat finks, but I love a good shake up amongst the so called "Elite". This Foley guy is the elite of America....money makes it right.

Money makes, extortion, adultery, child molestation, murder, mayhem, sodomy, R. Kelly, rape, and a slew of other wrong things....right.

Wrong!

I have to be a bit shallow and add what I just read....Foley has allegedley been involved in a long-term relationship with a dermatologist..Ummmmm....Foley's skin shows otherwise. So if this is true, either that is the worst dermatologist on earth or he didn't like his boyfriend very much.

Thankfully, it is now like this...

Life is 10% what happens to you, 90% how you respond.



My mantra...and it really works for me(as long as I remember to remember this point)

The Sun continues to rise and shine EVERYDAY!!! Unless you're in Alaska....no thank you.. as I am solar powered.

Hip-Hop Hooray!!!!

It's like this right now:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

let's revisit an older post..

Because...If true....This (being a divorce) would be the best decision Whitney Houston has made since deciding to become a singer. Whitney Houston being my favorite, singer, celebrity, person in the world. Person...as in one I don't really know but has had a serious impact on my life anyway. And I still plead the fifth when all who know me want to "gossip" about my girl. Not doing it. Not interested in doing it. And get the hell out of my earshot if you just can't stop yourself. Just two weeks ago I was out at a club, a club. And the poor souls I was there with, thought it would be entertaining to start doggin' my girl out because all who know me know it usually starts a heated debate. Well thankfully, I stopped talking altogether and not to pat myself on the back, but I was commanding the fun, and the fun went out the window when I gave them the silent treatment so they quickly ordered another round and changed the subject. I didn't have to do the usual temper tantrum and take the bus home bit...although I was driving and had they not been smart enough to respect the DRIVERS wishes. Three buzzed chicks would've had to call a cab....a very non-fun (and costly) thing to do in Cali.

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??????

The 100 Most Powerful Women

I don't have much to add to this. I found it interesting. The world keeps on spinning and women across the globe are spinning right along with it. Great!

My first reason for going to check out this link was to make sure the most powerful woman in my sphere was there... Miss Oprah Winfrey coming in at a lovely number fourteen in rank. MAJOR, on all kinds of levels. Too many for me to get into right now. After Miss Winfrey invites me on her show and gives the audience a complimentary copy of the cutest children's book to come about in the new millenium, I will then get into "My life with, without Oprah" and the impact. I found a high school picture from my Junior year last week, flipped the photo, and on the back was....To Oprah Winfrey. My junior year..I was 15 years old. In my first oral communications course in college, after my presentation (I suffer from a serious phobia of public speaking) the professor compared me to Oprah. Little things are major boosts. Of course I was horrified at the thought of having to speak in public like Oprah does everyday, but it was beyond nice to have a black woman doing wonderful things in the media to be compared to, especially when film and media studies was my major. Truly. And here we are many, many years later and though I still suffer terribly from public speaking. I do rise for the occasion and with sweaty palms and a lightning fast heartbeat...I do what I have to do.

See how I start going on and on about Ofrah? Maybe I'll write a book and title it "My life with, without Oprah".

A picture really does speak a thousand words.

Condoleezza Rice,who was #1 for a spell got demoted to #2. I know it's not supposed to matter because she is a woman doing things and all, but good Lord, what is she and where is she from...poor 'ting. I'm afraid for her. She looks like she is in a constant state of "deer caught in headlights." She looks like a woman who signed on to do something she's not sure she should be doing but feels she's gone to far to turn or come back now. I hope she's inspiring some little girl who doesn't really know the specifics except this woman of "some" color is the Secretary of State. It's what I hope of our 66th Secretary of State....missing one 6 to hint at deals made.
I think she was inducted on January 26th....there's your other 6. Too many of those upside down 9's involved for me to put my raised eyebrow to rest. But I still maintain....God Bless Her!!!!

And that's all I have to say about that.

In the great words of Erykah Badu.....

"Now keep in mind, I'm an artist, and I'm sensitive about my s*&^!"

I got my first OFFICIAL rejection letter from THE publishing company I wanted to be the home
for my outrageously adorable (and marketable) series of children's books. My blood, sweat and tears was sent back to me in the pitiful self-addressed envelope I enclosed with a even more pitiful 4X6 piece of scrap paper. With the stock response....We apologize for this impersonal response but the amount of submissions we receive, outweighs...blah, blah, blah and your work was given careul consideration....yadda, yadda, yadda but NO!!!!!!! NO!!!!! NO!!!!!!

Now I know you're saying..."One rejection letter, Bitch please." But this is how I operate. My confidence is (was?) right up there with the stars. The screenplays....I'll give you an inch on rejecting those. That's a whole other show Oprah. But this book my aunt and I have created. This legacy. I mean if I had an extra $20,000 laying around, I would self-publish the first series. Get everyone's attention and then make him come high with the numbers, for the rest of the series.

And if, if was a fifth....We'd all be drunk.

I'm running out of optimism. Even though I know, I know, it's my own belief about most things.....If you line your ducks up in a row..and it still doesn't work out, then it wasn't meant to be. I know this. I maneuver through life with this. But sometimes, I get knocked on my Arse and this is one time. I did my research on children's book publishers and reached out to this company...exclusively...because I'm not the one for settling. But I do know, what we think we want is not always what we are supposed to have and so the path for my children's book has switched up a bit. The way I would prefer it to go down...if I submit my work to a company I'm not supposed to be with then my lawyer would negotiate back and forth for a few weeks until we finally decided not to go with the company. That's more ideal and hella' easier to swallow, than a big fat, NO!!!!!!

The problem is, I've reached a dead end in the maze and I'm not sure of the next move. THIS IS MY PROBLEM. I rarely suffer from this affliction, so when it hits, it hits hard. Sucks. Truly. For many reasons. Many more than I care to share.

And not to compare, because it's nowhere near as intricate and massive (nor is it meant to be, thank you very much) but my friend told me, through my tears, that several companies passed on Harry Potter. Kicking themselves all in the arse now I'm sure. My book is much more simple aimed to spark the imaginations of the little 2-6 year olds. I already envision the border of my (yet to be conceived) baby's room painted with my character. And the next picture is walking into Target...pronounced Tarjhay....when we need to be fancy....and seeing the character on lamps, bedspreads, shower curtains and so on and so forth and shoobee doobee dooobee......

So....there you have it.

Down but not Out and working on getting back into the stars, because seriously. The book has been tested on its future consumers, any and all 2-6 year old children I come in contact with. And they all give it a thumbs up. One darling child (Offspring of two beautiful celebrities and I mean beautiful), even drew a picture of the character on the chalkboard for me after she read the book. And then we had a cartwheel competition that she quickly won. The bones of a 34 year old in comparison to the bones of a 6 year old. Oh, the CUTENESS...Last year my aunt took it to a pre-school....read it for the kiddies and they LOVED it. They even chose specific pages they loved. So these kiddies should NOT be denied. Dangburnit!!!! Nor should this kid or the illustrator who brought my words to beautiful life. As her sister (my mother) brought me to life...it's a lovely cycle....It's beyond my doing. It's heavenly ordained. SHWORD!!!!

A preview:

Segregated Survivor

OH MY GOD BECKY!!!!!

I think that is an awesome concept. I mean for real. Black, White, Asian and Latino. Dare I take a stab at who would win. I'm not going there. And I have to tell you, I don't think it would be the Black team. They will give it some lovely spice. Like pepper on eggs, but win...By any means necessary. I don't think so. It'll take a more desperate sort. Because if I was on Survivor, I most certainly would be the cause of my race being disqualified. As in.......I quit. Get me on a helicopter, RIGHT NOW! It might cause some kind of Slavery flashback of my former life and at that moment I'll need be flown to a W nearest wherver the hell they are. But, best believe, I would be offered another reality show faster than the speed of light. I'd call it something like "Dayna's Devastion". That could be the spin off.

Some NYC officials want CBS to pull the "Segregated Survivor" season....they are friggin' crazy and need to get a grip. This is America, a whole load of different races smashed together. There is always going to be an "issue". And anything from chocolate and vanilla ice cream to the President of the United States to a simple game of checkers or chess, has the ability to spark racial issues. Racial issues will cease when we've all mixed races so damn much that we don't even know what we are...We as in my Great-Grandchildren's grandchildren. Oh yes, that's where we are heading. No more African American, Caucasian and blah, blah, blah.....in the very far future.....especially thanks to black men who these women (of other races) LURVE to death, out here in Cali. The speed of mixed mutts is being accelerated and I love it. I hope I'll be on my way back to earth as one of those mixed mutts hundreds of years from now. I'd like to be a part of it.

Anyways, I MUST buy a television because I most certainly will tune in. And if by some dumbass chance CBS comes under fire too much and pulls the series, I look forward to purchasing the box set.

The success of television shows rest on DRAMA...Segregated Survivor is DRAMA FOR YOUR MAMA!!!!
GENIUS. I had an idea for a pilot many years ago and it was called "Back to Africa". That treatment was too controversial for me to even go there on my blog. The title should give you an idea.

Folks need to relax, we've got bigger problems than Segregated Survivor. It seems a majority of Americans look for any excuse to flex their angst. Survivor won't create any racial issues that weren't already festering amongst the masses of underpaid, aggravated minorities in America. That's the problem. I can't wait to see it, if I could stand bugs and rodents and things, I would've even loved to have been on the show. In my lifetime, I wanted to be on The Real World and a VJ on MTV and have auditioned for numerous game shows, was even on a few (and won by the way)but honey, hanifala, I've never had the urge to go on Survivor, Amazing Race yes. Survivor....NO THANKS!

But I still love the concept and look forward to all the Flowers in, Americas Race Relations, attic to pour down on our heads, where we are then forced to start picking up scattered petals....BRING IT!

Quotables

When I'm busy, being lazy or starting a new gig this is my blog filler....but these are great quotes. The first one is my favorite of all times. Thank you, Gandhi.



"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 one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams and endeavors to live the life he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."
-Henry David Thoreau


"Talent is like electricity. We don’t understand electricity. We use it."
"If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities."
"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."
-The mighty Maya Angelou


"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"
"Learning without wisdom is a load of books on a donkey's back."
- Zora Neale Hurston.


"Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose — a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye."
- Mary Shelley.


"What difference do it make if the thing you scared of is real or not?"
- Toni Morrison in Song of Solomon.


"I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have."
- Thomas Jefferson


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


"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."
"One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.
-Virginia Woolf



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


Love these all...

Cooties, Shared Germs and Executives....OH MY!

Why on God's great grand earth do people, especially the executives at the various production companies I freelance with, think or fail to think about how WE THE little PEOPLE, don't want to share their bodily excretions. I've seen it too many times. I've had to throw away good meals because of it.

My angst of the day....I was two seconds from popping open the side order of rice ordered for the OFFICE. Not for one executive to walk by....sloppily tear the top off dip his friggin' personal fork into it, take a mouth full, pause because it was so good and circle back around to dip his fork in it again....again I say. This man, this executive who...for all I know picks up prostitutes on Sunset every night while simultaneously tongue kissing his dog, didn't think once or twice about mixing his saliva into the batch of delicious looking rice that I now have to go without. My Achilles heal is being denied good food. And I know all kinds of stuff goes on in kitchens and blah, blah, blah....the office is not the kitchen and I'm not hanging out in restaurant kitchens to see what's going on, because I don't want to know. But these executives are blatant with it.

I had an exec. at a different company, my first time working there, she didn't know me from Adam, Eve or Amy, but she felt comfortable or goddess of her office enough to put her (God knows where they've been) fingers in my plate and grab some fries. This woman who owns a big dog, loves her big dog and I'm sure feeds him right from her own fork. That's your deal...fine. I was raised by a Southern woman who taught us that dogs and their excretions, belong outside. I make doggie cootie exceptions for people I know and like and little cute dogs, but I'm not stopping in the street to coo and make out with random dogs. The obsession with dogs as pets is ownership and loyalty but if an owner really stops and pays attention, most dogs, a majority of dogs, will follow the food. Not the love of some human holding them captive and dictating to them when it's okay to eat, pee and other gross things. And I said OBSESSION with dogs as pets. We had a dog named Christmas, Chris for short and I loved that little so and so. But he knew his place and his place wasn't on my bed or my Grandma's bed or our couch or the dining room table. He slept UNDER my Grandma's bed and spent most of the day running (and shitting) around the nice big yard we had. And if he had a momentary animal instinct relapse and jumped on a table or couch, he was quickly reminded. Don't call the humane society yet, he understood my Grandma's stern voice and my hysterical screaming to mean he was doing something wrong. That is a normal animal/human relationship. Chris was great company for me and protection even though he had a mean bark and that's about all that was mean. But fools coming to violate didn't know, they just heard a wild animal with sharp teeth warning them to stay out of our yard. But again....I digress.

Back to the executive cooties running through my bloodstream....I'm at her company, working for a living, I'm not the Princess Leia to her Jabba the Hut. She doesn't know what I did to that food before she came along and violated my plate and I don't know what she did with her fingers so......I tossed the whole thing and subsisted off of water for the day. It's an outrage. And honestly I've experienced it in Los Angeles not New York and I've worked for years in both places.

I really don't know if I'm really staying here in Los Angeles, yes the weather is da' bomb. But I have winter coats and boots and I'm really, really not feeling the majority of God's children I've come across here in the city of Los Assholes.
Being here is beginning to change how I feel about people. I find myself saying some really nasty things to and about everyone I come across and I'm trying hard to love all God's LOST children. I had to reprimand myself because I actually had a moment where I wished for an earthquake in Los Angeles because I felt that would be the only way to put these egomaniacs in check. Mother Nature is the only one. Shake things up a bit and let these people know...the one with the most money and power, still dies in the end. If you want me to be impressed figure out a way to live forever (an awful thought) but if you can do that, then your money DOES count in the realm of nature and life and death. If a tornado hits the center of a city you are visiting and your money and position at some company keeps you from being swept away while everyone around you flies into the air...then I stand corrected. Pour some hot fudge on my words so I can much away on them. And then bring me some stockings and dress suits, I'm about to become a natural disaster exempt executive.

A 45 minute break.....


Again one of my rants was interrupted by work. And good thing. It always reminds me of how important it is to WALK AWAY. I must walk away, cool down and then return. It's what I have to remember in all aspects of my dealings with humans, from lovers to friends to family to stone cold enemies although I have forgiven all former enemies so I no longer acknowledge having them. Walk away and breath, don't drink or anything like that just walk away.

What I will say about these gross execs who have somehow equated their positions of power with making all others in their company ingest their cooties, is that when I come across, the kind and sensible production company executives who are pretty well adjusted and grateful for what they have been able to accomplish over the years, it makes me appreciate the absolute hell out of them and then I go above and far beyond any of my duties to help and make sure I respect their homes (offices) when I'm in them. God help the nasty and ungrateful ones whose homes will be amongst the first to go in whatever natural disaster is coming this way. Not their families, just those possessions they hold so far above human interaction. The humbling experiences we all have, to remind us of the kind of people we are supposed to be. Thank you very much.

And while I'm ranting.....let's just address Mr. Mel Gibson. One of my fav's. I've never seen "The Passion of the Christ" because I heard it was extra specially gory and I just can't take it, I really can't. But cheers Fool for having the balls to make it. And so I'm in Starbucks today and I hear this woman going ballistic...."Yes he apologized, but he didn't mean it and I hope it doesn't work". I mean discussing it like this guy aimed a nuclear war missile at Switzerland. I know she's talking about his apology not being accepted by more of those lovely executives who are making the decisions about his professional career. And I say this....



Firstly.... if this is really your mug shot, good for you Mel Gibson, you look damn good for a DUI charge.


Secondly...Here in Hollywood, Film Directors can molest kids, kill their wives, do lines of cocaine off the backs of underage mail order prostitutes and a whole lot more and still get a busload of work, respect and awards. So for real they are trying to Crucify this middle aged acting talent who we've all loved for so long. He really set himself up for some dumb shit to go down in the name of religion. Damn Mel. I say you leave the country for a while. Like Michael Jackson. It's about to be the new movie "The Passion of the Mel" because he's about to get his testes handed to him on a brass platter (not even silver.) Though I'm hoping for a swift blow over and then on to the next bullshit controversy.

and Thirdly.... I read that he referred to a female officer as Sugartis (hilarious.) I think Sugartits is a compliment. It's better
than being called Bittertits. Right?

I mean a lot is going on in the world right now and Mel was probably just getting out some of the many thoughts that are going through plenty of folks minds. Not mind per se, I remain silent about these wars because I feel too helpless and distraught.......see.....zipping my war tongue right......now. So give Melle Mel a break. He did take a load of crap over his career decisions and clearly he has a bit of a substance abuse problem, like every third human in the entertainment industry.....hey me included. Coffee is da' bomb and I can't stop. But I have yet to crash a car over some coffee, even when I happen to spill a hot cup on my lap.

I'd like to teach the world to sing.... in perfect harmony......perfect harmony and then I'd like to buy the world a coke...but only the ones made to for distribution in Mexico because they are made with real delicious SUGAR, not lethal High Fructose Corn Syrup.


It's just so crazy to see what pisses the masses off and what the masses are willing to brush under the rug. Everyone is so on edge and looking for anyone to jump on, shall I point my arrow towards the east side...ummmmm.....say......around the Washington D.C. area, for you fools who like to waste energy on the rants of a drunk and frustrated Hollywood entertainer. But I guess all this mish mosh of mishaps does make for entertainment. I wonder if God is entertained by all the things done in his name.