The Texas Tiger Chronicles

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Musings about Daisy, life, validation and Child Stars of the 80s

Mood: “Feelin good” Nina Simone has me going through some emotions today.

Mode: Dark seven jeans. A horizontally-stripped shirt that is blue, red and orange. Brown Kenneth Cole boots. Music: “Don’t Explain” by Nina Simone Hush now, don’t explain/Just say you’ll remain/Unless you’re mad, don’t explain/My love, don’t explain/What is there to gain/Skip that lipstick/Don’t explain/You know that I love you/And what loving does/All my thoughts are real/For I’m so completely yours

I put the record on and it took me right on through. About a lover who reappears. Nina was heartbroken. Hurt. Sad. But pleased. Happy he returned. Not interested in explanations. Just wanting the love. I played it three times. Then I cut of the lights. And I listened intensely. And I thought to myself. Maybe she is not singing to a lover. Sometimes we loose ourselves. The person who once were. The innocence we once had. Sometimes we need to return to ourselves. Just then a glimmer of myself flashed before my eyes. I remembered myself at 19. At 20. At 21. Before heartbreak. Before I knew real pain. Before I knew dishonesty. You know I think we never really loose that person. In spite of the abuse, the torture, the emotional drain. The push and the pull. He’s always in there. I felt him come back. Through Nina. I saw him. I felt him. I don’t know where he was. Or why he ever left me. And I choose not to ask. I am just happy he is back.

Munchies: I baked a Chicken, broccoli and rice casserole today. A special recipe my mom taught me that makes ours a bit meaty, hearty and healthy. It’s a real man’s meal. I ate it with Ritz crackers and I indulged in a glass of white wine. You know it’s good for the heart.

Motif: What nationality should your first-born be? I have recently learned that Meg Ryan is adopting a Chinese baby after having met the girl at a U.S. consulate in China. And with Angelina adopting from Ethiopia and Cambodia it seems the new “in” thing is a child from a nationality not of your own. And I love to be trendy. I am already online plotting. I was going through my closet today looking at all my hues and shades of brown and amber and then it hit me, I must adopt from an ethnicity that will match Ben Sherman’s Fall 2010 collection (the year I’ll be ready to adopt). The child must have red-undertones in his/her skin and should look good placed on my right hip when contrasted with my red Jack Spade bag. I can see me and my mixed raced baby now. Comparing and contrasting backgrounds and beliefs. Walking down the Avenue of the Americas (aka 6th ave). Me the Black writer. And my lovely Cablanasian child. She in a headwrap with hair freshly braided. Me dressed like a Samurai warrior. I can see the cover of VOGUE Magazine now. “Are babies the new accessory?” Me and La’Quinthia (I am going to give her a stereotypical name).


I have been called out today. A good friend of mine name Sparkle took me to task about my blogging drought (she is married to Andre 3000 in her head and we often go out on double dates – her/Andre with me/Nicole Richie). She told me “Don’t make me pull a MISERY on you.” So before you start pulling out the hammer and the wooden block, let me catch you up on the city. And the tiger.

You know you can really get lost in this city. Manhattan is only 12 square miles long but it is dense, intense and requires resilience. You have to be able to shake and bake, as Texas Tiger Sr. used to tell me. You meet people. Diversity is what I would call it. And not just amongst race and religion and creed. That is to be expected. But in New York you are separated and judged accordingly based on your pedigree (inherited and earned). Where you work. What position you play. Where you went to school. How much money you come from. Whether you summer in the Hamptons. Where you live. Is your beauty natural or altered (inner and outer).

And the questions go on. And on. Like the R. Kelly “In the Closet” series. Along the continun It becomes a bit grueling to endure. And the underlying and sometimes forebearing justification for all of this is summed up by the recently cancelled ABC series: The reasons why not.

New Yorkers search for reasons why not to have you in their social circle. Why not to date you. Why not to acknowledge your existence. Why not to validate you.

You know the whole “I don’t judge people” statement carries about as much weight as the Golden Globes/Academy Awards/Grammy statement “It’s just an honor to be nominated.”

Tell that to Susan Lucci.

We do judge. Some more than others. Some reasons valid. Others not.

There is a young lady in my building who says hello to me and I always nod back graciously. But I won’t allow her in my space because she has a certain energy about her. It may be drugs. It may be a seedy crime-induced lifestyle that includes gangbangers and greasy rappers. Or it may just be she is a Scientologist. Either way. I am not interested. And sometimes I feel bad about it. Then I think back to certain individuals I wish I would have NEVER allowed into my social circle and say to myself sthat the negative energy I feel from her is probably valid….so I keep it moving.

But I do not often like the high school like atmosphere of this thing we call life. We still have the outcasts, the trendy kids on the cusp, peppy bright-eyed cheer leaders, hypermasculine athletes, the uber-artists, and student council control freaks. They just each pick different career paths and we go on perpetuating the same insecurities that drove many of YOU (not me, of course) to drugs, premature sex, and underage drinking.

We replace those same vices with more adult pleasures like porn, gambling, backstabbing, career-climing and Kabbalah. And for what? So one day we can open our eyes in a hospital room and wonder what it was all for?

Is that all there is to this thing call life? Get as much as you can until you die?

Maybe it is. Perhaps. I only know so much at this point.

What I do know is that I did meet some great people in high school. And in my life I have been able to recreate some of those people.


There’s Daisy. She really is a flower. She blossoms. She blooms. And in some reversal of mother nature, I feel as though she waters me. And gives me nourishment.

So when I got an evite to celebrate her birthday I cleared my calendar. I was so excited that I mistakenly showed up to Flute (on East 23rd) a FULL week ahead of schedule. Evite and it’s small print!

But Thursday, I pick the right day and time. Daisy is so uber-known in New York her party even made a New York website with TWO pictures of the Texas Tiger AND one on the FIRST page!

The joint (FLUTE) was classy. What else would you expect from Miss Daisy. Her friends were all gorgeous in that New York way.

Fresh weaves. Hot hand bags. Glamourous labels. Noses slightly askew and lifted. Attitudes elevated. Men giving poses that say “yes, I am beautiful AND heterosexual.” Some believable.

Pasted smiles that were reminiscent of that Chaka Khan classic “Hollywood.” Men avoiding eye contact with each other. Pretty girls cloistered in enclosed and impenetrable circles amongst reflections of themselves. And the trendy white people who bring their own unique flavor to the trendy blacks parties.

It was one of those nights for me. A little bit of “Oh my god. I live in New York.” And a little bit of “Oh my god. Its like being back in the high school.”

I wasn’t unpopular in high school so I know how to navigate the sharky water but still…can we have one night where everyone acts like they have just popped an E-pill? Love. Angel. Music. Baby?

And then there was Daisy. So refreshing. So happy. And I had the pleasure of making a personal greeting for her birthday tape. Much like the homage I am subconsciously writing for
her know.


I think for 2006 you should honor your friends. I think about the great people I know and I wonder do they know how much I appreciate them. Because I know some great people. Who have been there for me and who I know I can rely on. And since I have had friends lie to me, use me, sleep with people I am dating or just act out their jealousy in a number of subliminal exercises…I know the value of have good people in your life. And Daisy is like that.

That is why I like to call the people in my inner circle and say thank you. Sometimes I really say thank you for being a friend. Other times I just call for no reason and listen to them ramble. That’s also a way to show appreciation. I am so grateful to the people in my life who listen to me talk endlessly about Star Jones and Nicole Richie because I need that. I mean who else will listen to me if not my friends.

By that way, I had lunch with someone last week and I was going on and on about Star Jones and he stopped me and told me I was annoying him. At that moment I took the compass on my inner circle down from 90 degrees to 15 degrees, and sadly his point on the graph was excluded.

We need validation. We are social beings and we want to know that we exist to others. For me and Star Jones, it’s not just talking about her but it is what the whole Star Jones persona represents to me (which you will learn about in my tribute).

At that particular moment, I did not feel validated. Sure, you can get tired of my talking but if you are my friend, perhaps he could have asked “what does this Star Jones woman represent for you that you need to talk about it so much?” Rather than just telling me to shut up.
I try to validate my friends. That is what the intimacy of friendship is about. Understanding. Hearing. Sharing. Without that…what is the point?

I can get ignored by strangers on the street. No need to waste my time going dutch with you on shrimp and lobster.

If I need to clear my list of conversation topics with you, it’s a lunch I can skip. I’d rather eat alone.

Would have been more interesting company.

CommeTerry on all you need to know.

First Mary Kate battles bulimia (all the while looking fabulous I might add) Then Jamie Foxworth goes on Oprah to denounce her porn past while Leif Garrett gets caught on a heroin bust. AND NOW Jodie Sweetin (of Full House) is addicted to crystal meth. What are we doing to the child stars of American TV?

I am going to tell you right now, as God is my witness, if any crazy tabloid-esque drama ever pops off with Raven-Symone of the Cosby Show I am going to write the Bush administration and show them how a simple google-search of “child star” links to tons of drug induced porn sites and then I will lobby Congress with corporate sponsorship from Planned Parenthood and the Conservative Families of America to make sure child actors are banned from sitcoms. They are destroying America! We will see how Hollywood responds once I get Bill O’Reilly and Rush Limbaugh on their backs.

SIDEBAR: Don’t you wonder why pretty girls do porn? I mean I don’t think guys will want to see unpretty girls doing naughty things but Jaime IS beautiful. Did you see her on Oprah? I mean, she could have become a high-priced call girl of something. But porn? And she has the nice cocoa skin and long “good “ hair, she could have at least pulled a rapper. But that is what happens when you don’t love yourself. She needs to be like me and read Shine: A physical, emotional and spiritual journey to finding love by Star Jones Reynolds. Before you do porn, at least try do a C-list rapper.

A shout-out to my Texas Idol Liz Smith. I lifted this from her column today and I think she sums up the whole Hilary Clinton debacle quite famously:

'IDEAS MOVE rapidly when their time comes," wrote author Carolyn Heil brun. It's odd that Sen. Hillary Clinton's "plantation comment" caused everybody to get into such a lather. If you read the entire statement she made, it's clear she was talking about the problem of one-party rule, nothing whatsoever to do with race. (But because she had a largely black audience, she was misconstrued.)

She said, "When you look at the way the House of Representatives has been run, it has been run like a plantation, and you know what I'm talking about. It has been run in a way so that nobody with a contrary view has a chance to present legislation, to make an argument, to be heard."
The New York senator said this same thing about a year ago on CNN, and nobody flinched. And the Republicans' Newt Gingrich said something similar when the Democrats controlled Congress.

At the time he complained: "Since they (the Democrats) think it is their job to run the plantation, it shocks them that I'm actually willing to lead the slave rebellion."
So both these polarizing politicians were remarking from their own positions that it is never a good thing when one party controls everything.

Republicans who are in a snit over Hillary's remark were very quiet when their man Newt said the same thing some years ago.

Goggle won’t get in bed with Bush

Google is standing firm, refusing to give in to the Bush administration insistence that the No. 1 Internet search engine allow government to do some searches of its own in regard to downloading porn. But you should all know that Yahoo and AOL already gave in to Bush. Damn you! From now on I would suggest you search for porn on google or away from home (like at work) just to be safe. Luckily I am not worried about porn searches, however, I have no desire to explain to anyone why I spent 4 hours googling fansites for the 1980s TV series Dynasty. It’s my own personal pleasure and I will not stand for ridicule. And FYI – I will be devoting a full day of coverage to a Dynasty tribute very soon.


OH, no, she didn't! How's this for B-list logic: Britney Spears stole away Shar Jackson's babies' daddy, Kevin Federline, so Jackson has struck back by sleeping with Spears' ex-husband, Jason Alexander. Jackson showed up at the 25th-birthday party for singer Ray J, Brandy's younger brother, in L.A. Saturday night with Spears' redneck ex-hubby in tow. A spy says, "They made out all night before going upstairs to the off-limits bedroom area of the house." The rumpled duo rejoined the party an hour later, we hear - much to the surprise of Brandy and her new beau, Nick Cannon. A rep for Jackson declined comment.


WHAT does Star Jones expect? She writes a book about her stunning 150-pound weight loss, goes on the road to promote it - and then blows her stack when someone asks her how she did it. The formerly porcine princess had it out last week with Steve McCoy, co-host of "The Steve and Vikki Morning Show" on Atlanta's Star 94 FM, when he said he heard she had "the procedure" done in Atlanta, referring to her rumored stomach-stapling. "The fact that you would irresponsibly repeat gossip you have no factual basis for . . . that is categorically incorrect," Jones fumed over the phone. "I'm surprised you would repeat something that is clearly gossip. I don't fall into these games," and hung up. She later called McCoy the "single rudest person who ever interviewed me." Jones' rep insisted, "She did not hang up on the radio station."


VOGUE editor-at-large Andre Leon Talley is putting his enormous foot down when it comes to the "CrackBerry" addictions of his friends Mariah Carey and Naomi Campbell. Talley complains in February's Vogue that his glamorous gal pals are constantly tapping away on their BlackBerrys, even while dining at fancy restaurants. Detailing a trip to Russia with Campbell and Marc Jacobs in his column, Talley writes, "On this trip, the only out-of-control Naomi Campbell behavior I witnessed was compulsive BlackBerrying. Personally, I find this new BlackBerry culture annoying to the point of exasperation. On several occasions, I have observed other iconic personalities, such as Mariah Carey, forget that while at a formal dinner it is not exactly good manners to drop the BlackBerry into your lap and start e-mailing." Informed of Talley's tsk-tsk-ing, Carey's manager, Benny Medina, told PAGE SIX, "The utilization of this technology is commonplace and it's unusual that he would actually feel the need to single her out. They were just speaking over the phone last week about outfits for the Grammys and stuff . . . I'm sure Andre didn't mean any harm."

A big corporate merger

From - : After some aggressive flirtation, Disney’s Robert Iger and Pixar’s Steve Jobs were finally permitted by their respective boards to succumb to their mutual lust, shed their inhibitions, and fall into Jobs’ rotating, Mickey-shaped waterbed in a tangle of mouse ears and iPod accessories to “complete the transaction.” The two companies have announced that Disney will swallow up longtime hitmaking partner Pixar. and the pair shared a sweet, postcoital cigarette to celebrate the love that once seemed all but snuffed out by a sour break-up with former Disney boss Michael Eisner:

Another Merger

Two small, long-struggling television networks - UPN and The WB - will shut down this fall and programming from both will be used to launch a new network aimed mainly at young and minority viewers.
The new network will be called The CW - "C" for CBS Corp. and "W" for Warner Bros. - each of which will own half of the new entity and contribute programs, assets and executives to the venture.

Britney Baby’s daddy gonna impregnate your ears

The rap debut of Kevin Federline - known as K-Fed to some but to most as Mr. Britney Spears - features only a snippet of his lyrical prowess. Given the response to it, even less might have been better.
"PopoZao," Brazilian-inspired groove which features Federline rapping about large posteriors in-between a few yelps and a gruff-voiced chorus, made its debut on the Internet earlier this month. Though the track is three minutes long and Federline's rap lasts for less than a minute, it has already become a popular music track circulating on the Web. But not in a good way. The track has been getting TERRIBLE reviews but if William Hung and Ashlee Simpson can get hit records, we may be seeing a lot more of K-Fed. I mean, he raps better than Trina.

Kate Moss to appear in London to answer questions

Kate Moss has finally agreed to be questioned by London police in the coming weeks about her alleged cocaine use, but that hasn't stopped her partying. The 32-year-old model celebrated her birthday with a 13-hour bender in Paris on Saturday, reports London's Mirror. Moss started her day drinking at the Ritz, then went to a dinner with a gaggle of model friends, including Naomi Campbell. The group returned to her $1,700-a-night hotel suite at 4 a.m., and were only heard from the next afternoon when she ordered room service …

Is J Lo preggers?

Jennifer Lopez, 36, and Marc Anthony, 37, have been doing "tons of shopping" for baby gear lately, says a source near to the couple. "He was at Fred Segal on Melrose Ave. in Los Angeles last week and bought a Guys Infant Gear diaper bag for $120," a spy tells's Jeannette Walls. "He said something that made it pretty clear that it wasn't a gift." Lopez's rep still insists that she's not expecting.

Race to the Altar – Raise to Judge Mabeline

A trend that may be occurring right beneath your radar is the tendency of moneyed men to call it quits before they're forced to fork over serious sums.

Consider billionaire Ron Perelman, 62, so to split from actress Ellen Barkin, his fourth wife. With five years of marriage under their belts, their prenuptial agreement allots Barkin $20 million in the event of a breakup. But here’s the hitch, she could receive a lot more if she makes it past their preset date which is right around the corner.

But Perelman will have none of that. He has gotten burned before. His third wife, Patricia Duff, "reportedly got $30 million after 17 months of marriage," said a source. "Ellen has been married to him for five years."

Like Perelman, Tom Cruise left Nicole Kidman just one month shy of their 10-year anniversary in 2001. The Hollywood couple didn't have a prenup; instead, under California law, Cruise was required to pay alimony for half of the length of time the marriage lasted. Makes you wonder how long Miss Katie will last doesn’t it? Or maybe we can assume Katie will be able to date a heterosexual man by the times she turns 35. Not that I am saying Tom is a hetero….I’m just sayin.

And Donald Trump de-trumped Marla Maples by filing for divorce just weeks before their fourth anniversary. Had they survived the date, Maples would have netted millions, but walked away with the sum dictated by the couple's original prenup: $2 million and child support for their daughter Tiffany.

Now to be married to a billionaire and only walk away with $2 million, Miss Maples did not seem to have the power of the P. She should have at least been able to throw in a 360 –spin and get iut up to $5 million, right?

Moral of the story – when the due date on your pre-up is around the corner, reach under the bed and pull out a routine your partner didn’t know you knew. My good friend April (shout out to April) always told me “Never show ‘em ALL your tricks.” It’s really good to keep at least 5 secret back spins and leg lifts to yourself – cause you never know.

The return of my TV Idol!

Former Minnesota Viking Ahmad Rashad - who's 56 but looks 10 years younger returns to ABC this Saturday: "NBA Access With Ahmad Rashad," a behind-the-scenes, up-close-and-personal "real-life drama" about the personalities in pro basketball. (The debut episode, at 1 p.m. on Channel 7, features Shaquille O'Neal and Sacramento Kings owners Joe and Gavin Maloof.)

Mr. Rashad, divorced from "Cosby" star Phylicia Rashad, is dating Sale Johnson, the rich ex-wife of billionaire Jets owner Woody Johnson. The couple were introduced by Donald Trump on a golf course.

So for all of you hating on my IDOL cause he has a white girlfriend, how many millions would you be bringng to the table? And it ain’t about money but its not like this is a “typical” story of a rich black man trolling a trailer park for a “come up” wife.

Hi Montel!

One last note: The family of slain rapper Biggie Smalls is still fighting for justice in the unsolved case in which they've accused rogue cops of plotting the murder and coverup.The Brooklyn-born rapper's mom and his widow, R&B singer Faith Evans, may add a civil-racketeering charge to their soon-to-be-filed renewed wrongful death suit against the city and LAPD, one of their lawyers said yesterday.

The family alleges convicted corrupt LAPD cops Rafael Perez and David Mack conspired with Smalls' archrival, Death Row Records honcho Marion (Suge) Knight, to have the rapper killed after a party in March 1997.


And please tune in tomorrow night at 8, NBC will air "Jamie Foxx: Unpredictable," a one-hour special featuring musical numbers, including songs from his new CD, plus filmed vignettes highlighting points in his life. During the special he performs songs with Stevie Wonder, Common, Mary J. Blige, Snoop Dogg and the Game.

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Wednesday, January 18, 2006

CommenTERRY - Ray Nagin, Clay Aiken, Golden Globes and SWV are fat

I'm having decaf. And you?

Mood: Focused. I know where I am going and I know where I have been. And I am still Terry from the block.

Mode: Just some regular low-rise jeans with a grey and red v-neck sweater. I threw on my wool STRUCTURE trench coat and some Banana Republic loafers. I selected a wool grey hat today that matches the shirt as we are anticipating rain today in New York and I’d like to be prepared. And I am rocking glasses. Looking very studious.

Motif: Is God mad at America? (I cannot take credit for this extremely thought-provoking question. The honor goes to New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin, who I am sure will be looking for another job as soon as he is up for election. Sitting at home last night next to the heater as the New York evening was quite chilly, I thought about the series of hurricanes that have plagued the US. And about the mudslides in California. And the mining accident. The disappearance of Nancy Holloway. And how the Golden Globes tragically snubbed Nicollete Sheridan. And I pondered the realization that we might be under attack. When I saw Mayor Nagin on the FOX News Channel speaking with such venom and fire and brimstone about the tragedies of Hurricane Katrina and his plans to restore to New Orleans back to the great chocolate city it once was with the nation’s highest murder rates, dilapidated ghettoes and proliferation of gold teeth it just gave me the chills. I said to myself, this is what Martin Luther King’s dream was about. And for Nagin to give this speech on MLK day, how appropriate.

Munchies: I have been eating a lot of fresh fruit lately. Today I ate a batch of grapes (the whole vine), some watermelon, pineapple and a few orange slices.

Last night my best friend Bobby Brown Jr. honored me with his presence and his visit turned into an impromptu sleepover with us eating pizza and watching American Idol in our PJs. Sometimes I feel like I am the only man in America who wears pajamas as most people I quiz tend to go nude. In Chicago. In New York. In DC. Knowing its 15 degrees outside and you are inside naked just baffles me. I wear PJs in the summer. I also sleep with an electric blanket on my bed cause I like warm my sheets. A cold bed is a pet peeve of mine. I need heat in the summer and fall. Artificial will do, until natural comes along.

The highlight of the evening was when my roommate Claudine came home and gave me and Bobby an impromptu belly-dance. Claudine is very-European and speaks several languages. We often have these very intense conversations at 3:30 in the morning in front of the refrigerator as we both have a love for food and most importantly, we treat ourselves to cupcakes and ice cream in the wee hours of the morning. If I began to tell you about the late nights and early mornings me and Claudine have met in the kitchen to dish the dish on love, life and fantasy over Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies and Baskin & Robbins ice cream you would think I was describing a pilot for a very twisted episode of Will and Grace meets the Golden Girls. But I adore Claudine. All of my friends do. With her accent (which is so trendy in New York) and her fiery personality and talkative nature. She is a voluptuous redhead, very Lindsay Lohan before the Columbian marching powder and her two index fingers got the best of her.

But it was a sight to behold as Claudine strapped on a golden belt full of flittery shingles and noise-makers. In a black halter top with her breasts pushed up and out thanks to a newly purchased trinket from Victoria’s Secret, Claudine gave us a shimmy and a shingle which made me break into an impromptu rendition of that new Negro spiritual “Won’t you come over and check up on it, I’ma let you check up on it, dip it pop it check it stop it, check on me tonight.”

SIDEBAR: I gotta get me a gold shimmy belt. It was VERY cute for about a good 15mins. HOWEVER, 30-mins later I had to tip-toe over to Claudine’s bedroom and ask her to take that damn belt off cause she was starting to wear me out like an Ashanti remix. It’s REALLY hot the first time you hear it. Then once you get into it, you’ll be like, “Um. I pass. Next station on the dial please….”

A few days ago I had the pleasure of seeing John Lithgow in his very last performance in the Broadway musical Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. I accompanied three of my African-American friends and as we entered the theater I looked around and the entire audience (save the four of us) seemed White, Jewish and over 55. And for the first time in the 18 months I have lived in New York, I FINALLY felt like I belonged. These are my people. I began to sing a very mellow rendition of the Broadway show-stopper “Home” to myself (Diana’s version from the Wiz, not Stephanie’s version from the show – cause that is a whole other emotion.).

The show was amazing and I ended the evening by going to the Juan Valdez Café in the center of Times Square where I ordered a chocolate nevado. Let me testify about the chocolate nevado.

First giving reverence to God who is the head of my life. My pastor IV Hilliard in his absence, members, visitors, backsliders, drop-ins and other Christian friends. One day I was walking down Broadway and I noticed a new coffeeshop. Now I have been loyal to Starbucks up until this point so I resisted temptation the first day. But the sprit was heavy on my soul and something spoke to my in a quite voice. It was that same quiet voice that spoke so eloquently to Karen Clark Sheard on “He loves me” as she answered herself over and over again in five octaves. And that little voice told me to go in and order something sweet and chocolate. Usually I fill those kinds of orders in online chat rooms, much like Clay Aiken, but today I wanted a more personal connection. Iesha, my coffee specialist, told me that I would love the nevado after I told her what my heart desired. And let me tell you. It was an experience. It was so chocolaty. So smooth. So rich. So creamy. Like velvet on my throat. I had never experienced anything like it. Well….actually I have but, I didn’t know you could get this feeling from coffee too.

The chocolate nevado runs RINGS around any Mochiatto, Cappucino, or any other –iatto/cino that I had sipped on at the other place. I am now a loyal devotee to Juan.

This is not the first Juan in my life. There was Juan Carlo. I hope this lasts longer.

There has been so much happening. In New York. In LA. In Paris. In all the meccas of life and love and art and culture. It’s time we catch up with our celebrity friends. Our cousins. Those friends we love and hate. We go through their pain. We share their joy. We suffer the breakups, the makeups and the hookups. We are pregnant, we are no longer engaged, we are overcoming bulimia, we are hooking up with African American Oscar-winners, and we are ordering up chocolate trade to satisfy those nights of idol-boredom. In case you missed what was going on in your family, here’s an update:

(courtesy pf NY Post’s Page Six)

"WHICH pop-singing sensation likes to troll the Internet for gay quickies? After one unsafe session, his homo hook-up contacted a tabloid to sell his sordid story and offered a DNA-encrusted washcloth as proof. If the truth comes out, the singing idol's fans, mostly middle-aged housewives, will be very upset ."

SIDEBAR: Unsafe sex? Not the non-threatening asexual christian 2006 version of Barry Manilow! You aren’t having sex in Iowa anymore. When you have sex in the city you have two strap on two or three of those things.

Mr. Clive Davis, I saw what you did for Whitney. You took her out of the projects
of New Jersey and convinced the world that she was a bourgeoisie princess when she was really ghetto queen. And we thank you. Now, can you please do another intervention? Take our friend and teach him the lesson that Tevin Campbell didn’t get.

When you are a famous queen, you have to hire HIGH quality trade who won’t sell your secrets. That means NO bathrooms, no parties and NO internet. Isn’t there like a gay Heidi Fleiss out there? I mean, how did Eddie meet Johnny? (Allegedly).

Well one thing is for sure, for any enterprising businessmen out there, there is obviously an untapped market for high quality male trade. Anytime our celebrities have to reach into the dumps of common-folk desperation and troll for dates…there is a void that MUST be filled. For all of you looking to expand your business portfolios get started!


Mary J Blige warns animal activists to leave her coat alone

Soul singer Mary J Blige has warned animal rights campaigners to steer clear of dousing her in paint, because she insists it's her right to wear fur if she wants.

The No More Drama star is a fan of coats made from animal skin and refuses to adhere to the concerns of animal activists, including People For The Ethical Treatment Of Animals (PETA).

She says, "Those PETA people don't want to mess with me, they don't want to throw paint on my coat because it's not just going to be throwing paint. It's going to be Mary in the news the next day, you know what I mean?

"What gives them the right to destroy someone's coat because their opinion is that you shouldn't wear animals? Understand what I'm saying?"

SIDEBAR: We understand loud and clear. Mary J. Blige is NOT Joan Rivers or Anna Wintour. Throw some paint on this chinchilla and the bamboo earrings from the cover of the Breakthrough album are coming off. She will be tying up the long golden weave-braids from the My Life Album. Taking off the white Fendi sunglasses from Share My World. Pulling a razor from underneath the hat that hid her eyes from us on What’s the 411? And then carving a niche in some PETA A$$ to match the scar she bared for us on the MARY album. She told you No More Drama but don’t take a chick back to the hood. Religion will not save you from a good knife fight.

RAIN Pryor follows in Dad’s comedic steps

SHE doesn't have the comedic chops of her legendary dad, but that didn't stop Rain Pryor from trying to crack up the crowd at Caroline's on Broadway last weekend. Richard Pryor's daughter, describing her mixed ethnicity during a surprise set, said her father had a weakness for white women. "It's called WWD," she quipped. "White Women's Disease. My father loved white women. O.J. Simpson loved white women. And Michael Jackson is one." IT doesn't sound possible, but Chanel managed to turn Reese Witherspoon into a fashion victim at the Golden Globes.

Reese Witherspoon SWEARS off Chanel for good!

Witherspoon, who won Best Actress for "Walk the Line," wore a white-and-silver "vintage" Chanel dress - only to find out it was a mere 3 years old and that Kirsten Dunst wore the same frock to Globes after-parties back in 2003. Whoops!

Witherspoon's rep, Nancy Ryder, is said to be so angry at Chanel for giving her a recently recycled gown that she's vowing not to accept anything from Chanel again - or let her other clients, including Jennifer Lopez and Renée Zellweger, wear anything from the French couture house.

Ryder said, "Reese was told the dress was vintage. It was not. I'm not angry - just a little disappointed, but the big deal is Reese won the Golden Globe."

Mizrahi touches the Golden Globes

E! is said to be looking askance at its new red carpet commentator Isaac Mizrahi after he grabbed Teri Hatcher and Scarlett Johansson's breasts and asked Eva Longoria about her bikini wax. "It was odd and uncomfortable," sniffed one TV veteran.

Melissa Rivers likes her goodies

Melissa Rivers, on assignment for the TV Guide Channel, went ga-ga for a Globes goodie bag. Joan Rivers' daughter, who looks like she loves plastic surgery as much as mom does, tried to wheedle a bag, worth up to $60,000, from the staff at the Beverly Hilton. Quipped a wag, "One gift was a $1,000 certificate for plastic surgery - I wonder if that's why she wanted it so badly."

An EVA and a FOXX

Longoria and Jamie Foxx showed up together at CAA's after-party at L.A. hot spot Chaya. But despite Internet reports of them tongue-kissing, Longoria's pals swear it never happened, and that lovely Longoria is still with San Antonio Spur Tony Parker.

But Longoria and Foxx were spotted later at Prince's post-post-Globes party at the pint-size funkster's Beverly Hills mansion. Prince played his guitar to the delight of partygoers while Sheila E. performed with a salsa band. Peter Jackson, Mary J. Blige, Mariah Carey, Sanaa Lathan, Terrence Howard, Chris Rock, Jessica Simpson and Adrian Brody were among the revelers.

INSATIABLE supermodel Kate Moss can't be stopped. Just days after her wild night of pole dancing at Scores with Lindsay Lohan, Moss celebrated her 32nd birthday at her house in Malibu on Monday night - and partygoers report the revelry went well into the wee hours. Guests included oodles of "bad boy" types, but no word if Kate's latest squeeze, model-turned-songwriter Jamie Burke, was there. Moss - whose last boyfriend, junkie rocker Pete Doherty was arrested again this week in London for cocaine and heroin possession - couldn't have been happy when Aussie papers claimed Burke has a live-in girlfriend, model Jessie Leonard.

GAY is the new Black

With "Transamer ica" 's Felicity Huffman getting Best Actress and "Brokeback Mountain" getting Best Picture, get it straight. Gay is in.

OVERHEARD in Beverly Hills.
(courtesy of Cindy Adams)

First gal: "Who has the most thankless job?" Second gal: "The writer of Streisand's Web site editorials. Barbra doesn't do them herself. Just rants her anti-administration ideas, and this other lady whom I know shapes them."

JESSICA Weiner, who kicked an eat ing disorder, has written the slim vol ume, "Do I Look Fat in This?" Now, if you're already not already up to your windpipe reading diet dreck about the vanishing Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, she says:

"Shrinking Hollywoodites, proud they're under 100 pounds, affect celebrity-obsessed teenagers. Kids who don't know the secretary of defense can name every character on 'Desperate Housewives.' Body hatred now impacts over 10 million women who speak a secret language of fat that masks other feelings. Easier to compare the size of their thighs than confront a co-worker, handle a spouse or deal with a mother."

BOBBY WHITNEY. Has the blunt’s flames gone out in their ashtray of love?

Word on the street is that the namesake of Being Bobby Brown has been telling his friends that he and part-time lesbian, Whitney Houston, are putting an end to their 14-year marriage. (SIDEBAR: Lesbian is such a loaded word. And I didn’t use it, the “source” said so.)

The weekend before last, during a visit to the Foxwoods Casino in Mashantucket, Conn., Brown was spotted trying to get his game on with some eager sluts.

"While flirting with a bunch of women, they asked, 'What's up with your wife?' Bobby said, 'We ain't together no more. We're getting a divorce,' " says a witness.

The 90s are back! And they are fat!

New Edition aren't the only R&B artists on the comeback trail: Keith Sweat, Guy and En Vogue also performed at "Body & Soul." Guy announced onstage that they will have a new LP out this year and it looks like En Vogue will be following suit: The Funky Divas performed a brand-new single at the show. For the most part, all of the "Body and Soul" performers look the same as they did a decade ago, and their voices stand the test of time well.

On a related note, SWV were not at "Body & Soul" but have been performing dates with Keith Sweat and Guy. They also have plans to release new material this year: an SWV LP and a solo gospel project from group member Coko.

SIDEBAR: Everybody is selling chunky. SWV are the NEW Clark Sisters.

(summed up by this quote)

'I HATE to spread rumors - but what else can one do with them?" asks performer Amanda Lear.

Posted by Texas Tiger in NYC :: 6:40 AM :: 2 Comments:

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Sunday, January 15, 2006

Happy Birthday Dr. MLK

Today we celebrate and honor the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and all that he represents. But in honoring Dr. King and making him the face of the entire Civil Rights Movement, we ignore the myriad of contributions that other notable African Americans have made. I would like for each of you to visit a blog called "Thoughts and Reflections of a Black Man in America" as I think Quaheem did a great job expressing his frustration of our collective dismissal of other very important contributors to this continuing struggle. See Quaheem (

Posted by Texas Tiger in NYC :: 4:03 PM :: 0 Comments:

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Thursday, January 12, 2006

Hello Big Apple, Here comes the TEXAS TIGER

We are trying to redesign the blog to give it a more uptown-downtown feel...hang in there with me......
Mood: I am wildly optimistic. This is a year of fulfillment, gratitude, humility and personal growth. It's time to SHINE. Mentally, physically and emotionally. I wake up with a smile on my face and I thank God for the day and the blessings on my life and I thank him for a productive and fruitful day before it even begins.

Mode: Brown flat-fronted slacks with brown squared toed-shoes. A Ralph Lauren shirt with horizontal stripes with three colors in succession (pink, green and yellow). My top-coat is a vintage button-up suede jacket (the color is camel).

Munchies: Grapefruit, orange slices, three pineapple rings and a strawberry.

Music that started my day: "The Dream that Will Not Die" by Shirley Murdock. Remember the R*B diva who slept around with other women's husbands? (at least in song). Well, much like Kirk Franklin she has been delivered and is now singing the gospel. I think this song is particularly important for people who may be dealing with a health challenge, an emotional set back, a personal failure or a spiritual disconnection. Sometimes I wonder how do you keep your fire, your desire and your passion for your dreams alive. Shirley sings that God put the dreams in your spirit and your dreams will not die because God CANNOT lie. God gave you YOUR dreams and YOUR dreams are the TRUTH. The song continues to get me through life's bruises and cuts. I encourage you to download it. And while you are at it, download "Go on without you" It's one of Murdock's power ballads (likely about some woman's husband). She screams and wails and carries on. Perfect for a breakup. Then you put on the gospel track and heal yourself knowing that your dream for true love will not die.

Motif: Are you ready to walking into your life's anointing and calling?

Friday evening I made a small and quiet entry into New York's social scene as a party host. I have been here in the Big Apple for a little over a year now and I finally feel like New York City is home. When I first set foot here a year ago and I was cursed out by a cab driver, yelled at by a bus driver, screamed at by the deli slicer at Pathmark, accosted by a panhandler on the #6 train who sat next to me and lit his crystal meth pipe, insulted by a man in a gold hat, gold pant and gold boots yelling religious obscenities at me on 125 th street, and not allowed to shop at Hermes during store hours (yea….it happened to me too!).

I was just a little boy from Texas. With champagne wishes. Beluga dreams. John Varvatos aspirations. And upper-west side penthouse in the sky goals. And the city was taxing. More taxing that Reaganomics. And the "niceties" of Southern folk did not always trickle down. My heart has been broken by lovers. My back has been stabbed by coworkers and my existence has been questioned by Tom Cruise and the Scientologists. But I am still here. Dammit, I am still here.

And for me, Friday was to show not only that I was still here, but that I plan to stay here and make my mark. It was my way of living loudly, much like Star Jones’ wedding.

And just like Star Jones’ wedding, I traded a lot of favors to get things for free so the night could be perfect. And man do my knees hurt. But it was so worth it.

For my party I was thinking Martha Stewart meets B. Smith meets Katie Brown meets Rachel Ray meets Lloyd Boston. I know. I had a lot going on in my head. And for one lucky guest I also channeled inspiration from Superhead. I am kidding!

Seriously, I was kidding.

So the day begun like any other day. I got up and made a small pot of gourmet hot chocolate. As of late, I have been mixing white chocolate with dark chocolate to give myself that French café feel. I just love Godiva.

I had to pick up last minute party essentials (e.g. food) from Fairway Markets and the Harlem Citerella as I wanted everything to be fresh, fresh, fresh. As I stood in the center of the supermarket I had a CRASH moment. Just like Sandra Bullock, I broke down right in front of the fresh veggies on aisle 6 as the mist sprayed over the lettuce and radishes. I didn’t know what to buy. What to cook. What would make my guests happy. Which foods would match the décor. And why oh why was I always angry! And every since I had to fire my maid I don’t have any friends. And it was ALL my fault because I knew it was going to happen!

But after I calmed myself down with a shot of Smirnoff Vanilla, I was quite fine again.

My good friend Samantha came over to help me decorate the apartment and set up my serving table. I took a little inspiration from Katie Brown in terms of decorations because she always says you should use items from around your house to give it a more "welcoming" feeling. That is why I used vintage canisters as ice buckets and empty wine bottles as flower vases. I decorated the table with white flowers (I used artificial flowers) and arranged my wine and martini glasses on a small stand near the serving area. We put little trays of gourmet cookies and candies at various locations through the living room and dining room so no matter where you turned there was always food, drink and snacks within arms reach.

Samantha was such a god-send because she really helped me pull it together just like Nona Gaye helped Sandra Bullock’s husband pull it right together during all those long assignments and stuff. On my way to run some errands in Harlem, I had Sam drop me off on 125th street and it was through the grace of God, praise Jesus, that I made it safely. Sam has a severe case of road rage and every car trip with her tests my faith in Christ Jesus. Once I got in the car with Sam I looked on the floor and found a piece of paper that read

"Look Crackhead Fiend. Stop trying to break into my damn car. I don’t have money for this sh*t. Damn!"

Yea, she put it all on the line. For whatever crackhead fiend has been trying to break into Sam’s car, I am sure he is walking around New Jersey sitting a little funny since she ripped him a new one. When I asked Sam about the note she repeated it to me with so much venom I thought I had done something to her car. Between the note and her road rage, I was really happy to reach my barbershop unscathed.

My barber is a whole other ball of wax. He is a self-styled playboy who cuts my hair while wearing Burberry shirts with solid print ties. I am so into that. One thing that stands out to me about my dentist is that he cleans my teeth while wearing Burberry shirts and his platinum Rolex. It’s kinda hot. It makes me a lot more relaxed than a barber who wears a do-rag to work. But me and my barber have a few issues and he is on thin ice. As he attempts to match his snarky comments with my off-handed sarcasm we end up in many heated debates and sometimes he cuts my hair in silence because the air is so thick between us. But this Friday I was in a good space and I really wanted to start the new year of right since I had to send him to the Harlem hospital in stitches a few weeks back. But as soon as I sat in the chair and started telling him about the week, he tested my faith.

I told him about the viewing party and how I wanted to thank him for hooking up my fade and the back of my neck before I did the show. He said it was cool and proceeded to tell me about all the NBA players whose hair he cuts. I would ramble off the list to you but I don’t know who any of those people are and for all I know they may play for the Harlem PS 145 and not the
New York Knicks.

But I was trying to do the Christian thing and invite him to my party as I thought it would be good to see him in a more social setting.

Tiger: Hey, so I am having a viewing party at my house tonight. I would love it if you could come (and I said this very nicely with an air of genuine sincerity in my heart. Then he pulled out a knife).
Playboy: (First he looks at the barber sitting next to him and then he looks off into space and says…) "Will there be any girls there?"

SIDEBAR: One point for the Playboy. Now I had put all my knives up because after my mini-breakdown that morning I thought it would be a bad idea to be walking around with a sharp object….but no….negroes in the hood all ways want to test you. Always.

Tiger: There will be tons of pretty girls at my party. Some naturally born.

SIDEBAR: I am good for the recovery.

After I left the b-shop I headed to Spanish Harlem to pick up a digital camera. At this point it is 4pm and I still need to get home to hook up my ibook and playlist, prepare my food, and have some "me" time before my guests arrive.

I got home and immediately cut on the Rufus classis album Ask Rufus. My favorite song is Better Days. "We’ve got better days ahead." Not a bad line to repeat to yourself over and over.
My friend Daniel showed up a few minutes early to hang some of his artwork on my wall to give my apartment some artistic flair and ambiance. I lit candles in each room of the apartment (vanilla in the living room and Citrus in the bathroom) and I loaded up my playlist of party songs which was pretty much an ode to the 80s.

Sample Playlist:
Cherelle "Saturday Love"
Loose Ends "Hanging on a String"
Al B. Sure "Off on Your Own Girl"
Pebbles "Mercedes Boy"
Kanye West "We Major"
A Tribe Called Quest "Bonita Applebum"

As my guests began to arrive I opened up a bottle of chilled white wine soon followed by a few bottles of red. But the hit of the party were the martinis. Mind you, I had no idea that the martini would outshine the wine at a wine party….but it did. My friend Leshawnda brought the apple and cranberry martinis and they were enjoyed by all. One or two or three or four times the enjoyment. And I am not a fan of cranberry juice but even I was sipping on the cranberry martini.

For hor d’ourves, I had veggie quiche, pigs in a blankets, buffalo chicken, egg rolls and chicken taqitos.

For dessert I served an assortment of cheesecakes (chocolate, strawberry, turtle) and I had a few bottles of dessert wine which no one ever got to.

I put on a copy of the "BET News: 2005 Rewind" after a comfortable number of guests had arrived and we all sat down to watch the show.

I was so honored that the show’s illustrious producer, Shannon, showed some love and stopped by.

I had a lovely turnout and best of all, I got a chance to introduce some great New Yorkers to other great New Yorkers who have made my move here very special.

And the other "best" event of the night was when Daniel came into the kitchen and asked me did I like the yellow portrait he hung on my wall. Of course I said yes. Then he said, "Good. It yours."

So now I have a Daniel "original" hanging in my home that I will cherish for many many many years to come. Now all I need is a friend who designs Bentleys.

Coming Soon – "SHINE" When I met Star Jones Reynolds….

Posted by Texas Tiger in NYC :: 6:41 AM :: 4 Comments:

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Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Reconnections, the Shine, and doing NYC with Jackie O.

I am Under Construction, and I hope the finished product will be much better than Missy's album of the same name. Right now I am going through some changes and transitions and today's post is going all the way here and there. Everywhere.

You remember when you were sitting next to your mom on a Sunday morning in your local missionary Baptist church and a young soloist would walk up to the microphone during the alter call and give a gospel disclaimer? It usually began, "Giving honor to God, my pastor, members and Christian friends. The devil is busy. As I attempt to sing this song, please pray inward and I pray outward…" and then the song would begin. Well, I am not giving you a gospel disclaimer this morning but should my thoughts seem disconnected or random, just start praying while I sing my song.

Mood: Nervous. I having a small gathering at my house on Friday and it will be the first time I have had more than three people in my apartment at once. I am a nervous wreck. Plus I don’t know what I am wearing or what I am serving for Friday. It’s just too much going on in my head right now. I cannot stop shaking I am so nervous. I feel like Bobby Brown before a piss test with his parole officer.

Mode: Today was one of those "I know I look fabulous, but seriously, I didn’t try to" days. I literally threw on some fade jeans and a Kenneth Cole shirt that I didn’t bother to iron. I matched those up with some KC boots and a vintage Structure wool trench coat. I say vintage because Structure no longer exists which therefore classifies my coat as a "classic." My beard is growing back and I am showing a 5 o’clock shadow, very Richard Greico from 21 Jump Street.

Munchies: I ate two chicken breasts marinated in olive oil and herbs and spices.

Music of the Morning: "Help Me Make it Through the Night" by Gladys Knight.

I remember the first time I heard this song. I was in the midst of a spell of puppy love. I was 22, and I had just discovered what it felt like to sleep with someone all night. And I was a little hooked. And then, the sleeping stopped. And so did the visits. And so did the conversations. And I thought my world had ended. I felt like I would die. Was this love? Is this the thing so many people had told me about? This feeling of emptiness. The feeling of powerlessness. As I seemed to have given someone else power over my sleep. How can your absence keep me awake at night? I have slept alone for over 21 years, why do I need you now? I do not like being in a space where I do not have control. There is nothing sexy about being helpless or needy.

As I sat on my bed in the dark one night in New Orleans, I popped in a CD I picked up on a trip to the UK. And then came Gladys. And she began to speak to me in words and verses as if she was reading my heart. Every line and lyric pulsated through my veins. Provoking thoughts and questions. Leaving no answers. How did I go from being self-sufficient to being this person? And why do I need you to help me make it through the night?

I don’t know why I put on such a love ballad this early in the morning. I had a conversation last week, I think I shared it with you earlier. I think love does not always make you stronger. I think it makes you vulnerable. That’s what Gladys was signing about. It wasn’t about love, or hurt or loneliness. It was about being vulnerable but being comfortable in acceptance of your vulnerability. The song took me back to my own age of innocence and vulnerability. I haven’t felt that way for a few months. The first time I ran into Mechad Brooks in public I went all the way there. My heart was open. Vulnerable and fluttering. Open to sharing. Talking. Conversing. Discussion. Talks. Exchange. He looked at me and walked away. I was crushed. Why won’t he help me make it through the night Gladys?

Motif: Ask yourself, are you ready to SHINE?

This week I have begun my countdown to destiny. Four days. This Saturday there will be hell up in Harlem where I will be front-row and center at the book signing for Shine: A Physical, Emotional and Spiritual Journey to Finding True Love. Written by Mrs. Star Jones-Reynolds. I am sure this book will be as life-altering and informative as her many
witticisms on The View. For 2006, are you ready to SHINE?


New Years Eve afforded me a series of welcomed reconnections with the past. Old friends, old flames, old emotions and old resentments. But like the newly emancipated and newly overweight Mimi, I decided I was leaving it all behind.

As part of my personal road to spiritual, physical and emotional happiness, I hired a financial planner (for the creative artist "in" me who hates numbers), signed up for ballet lessons (for the child in me who loved to dance but was denied by my mother) and I have placed designs on a life-training course (to work out the kinks that may be holding back the SHINE).

The eve of the New Year also allowed me to reconnect with Jackie O., a very good friend from the days of undergrad. Back when we had fewer worries, traveled Europe together, partied in Barcelona and rocked 5th Avenue.

Jackie is about 5’11" out of her 4-inch stilettos and she isn’t a stranger to a short mini skirt. Right now, she is wearing her hair in locks, which I have seen her style in many variations. We met in Times Square which I think may have been the first place we met nearly 10 years ago. Jackie figured prominently into my first visit to New York as we shopped at Dolce and Gabanna together, went clubbing, and basically soaked in the city.

It was really good to connect with an old friend. Jackie is a friend who has visited me in nearly every city I have ever lived in. She will find her way to me, like a river finds the sea.

I always remember the little things. The friend who helps you with your campaign for freshman-class president. The friend who volunteers to pick you up from the airport. The friend who buys you Tropicana Orange Juice with extra Vitamin C when you are sick (without being asked) The friend who puts on a black shirt and takes to the wheel to drive you to your ex’s house as you sit in the passenger seat in a drunken stupor screaming obscenities. The friend who takes your cell phone from you in a jealous range as you throw down your martini glass and proceed to call each and every person still stored in your cell phone who has hurt you.

And then there is Jackie, who offered to clean me up after I drank three vodka martinis and literally painted her bathroom floor my own color of happiness. Making it to the porcelain throne was a goal that I sadly missed. It takes a true friend to pick up a can of Comet and a sponge and stand in the gap between you and the porcelain god.

Thank you Jackie O. For being there always.

I do hope you saw the BET Special. I will give up my thoughts after Friday’s event.

Gossip Headlines:
From fellow Texas Liz Smith (of the New York Post):

'GOSSIP CAN alleviate depression by making people feel connected with the larger world. Studies at the University of Wisconsin and at Yale found that water-cooler and backyard-fence chatter actually serves several useful purposes."
So write the editors of The Week magazine in their sum-up of American health issues at year's end. Well, they are essentially saying what I've been saying for years. I wrote in two books about how gossip helps us form our opinions, helps us come to moral conclusions, entertains us, and is cathartic in the manner of Greek tragedy and comedy. Studies at Princeton and Cornell also show gossip as an important means of making us more interesting and entertaining. Sometimes gossip also exposes deceptive, self-serving souls and creates a sense of unity for those trying to do the right thing!

Terry Cheated on gay Husband

NEVER send nasty letters to a spouse you want to divorce - they just might haunt you later in court. Best-selling author Terry McMillan found out the hard way during her ugly split with ex-husband Jonathan Plummer. Her marriage to the much-younger Jamaican, which inspired the book and movie "How Stella Got Her Groove Back," imploded earlier this year after Plummer confessed to a gay affair. But recently obtained divorce papers reveal he wasn't the only one getting his groove on. In a series of letters submitted to the court by Plummer, McMillan throws her own affairs in his face: "I wonder how you'd feel if I told you that I had plenty of sex when I was in New York. When I was in Spain and Paris," McMillan wrote. "That I have been cheating on you for three years because you were a drag, because you were boring, because you got on my nerves because you were embarrassing . . . you acted like a homosexual and you couldn't carry on an intelligent conversation." McMillan won her case in spite of the screeds, paying Plummer just $50,000 to walk away, reports Justice magazine.

Paris lies in deposition – Could jail ala Lil Kim style be in the mix?

THINGS aren't looking good for Paris Hilton in her legal feud with diamond heiress-actress Zeta Graff. Just before she left to frolic with man toy Stavros Niarchos in Maui over the holidays, Hilton gave a deposition in the $10 million slander suit Graff filed against her last year, in which Graff claims everyone's favorite heir-head deliberately maligned her. A source close to the case said Hilton admitted lying when she planted a story in the press that Graff, who had dated former Hilton fiancé Paris Latsis, attacked her in a jealous rage at a London club. According to the source, Hilton admitted in the deposition that Graff never attacked her. Hilton's former publicist, Rob Shuter, said in his deposition that the attack tale came straight from his client. (Shuter had the foresight not only to have Hilton sign a waiver so that she would be liable if he got sued, but he also saved her e-mails and logged her phone calls). Graff said in a statement to PAGE SIX: "Hilton will learn a valuable lesson about what happens when you try to ruin another person's reputation. She made a number of false statements about me, and she repeatedly lied under oath during her recent deposition. I look forward to her explaining all of this to a jury." Hilton crisis manager, Elliot Mintz, would only say, "In view of the fact that it's an ongoing matter, I'm not in a position to make any comment."

Posted by Texas Tiger in NYC :: 6:23 AM :: 2 Comments:

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Sunday, January 01, 2006

The Texas Tiger Chronicles

The Texas Tiger Chronicles: "NEWSFLASH: TEXAS TIGER ON BET NEWS at 9:00PM ET
“The Good, The Bad and the Ugly” The year in 2005. Please check me out tonight on BET and let me know if you enjoy the show."

Posted by Texas Tiger in NYC :: 1:40 PM :: 4 Comments:

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