It’s me, Whitney. No, not that Whitney, the other one. Yeah. Question, speaking of my namesake: What in the hell did Houston promise You in order to all of a sudden look so damn good? And is it too late for me to get in on some of that action?
Look, I’m not great at taking care of myself, I’ll admit it. And I’m sure You get a little offended when I take the healthy body You gave me and treat it like crap — spill beer on it and walk into walls, set it on fire with cigarettes or what have you. But it’s not like I’ve been doing crack for the last 10 years, Lord. It is also not like I am implying in any way that the former Mrs. Brown dabbled in the freebasing arts. I’m just saying that I have not, by any means.
Anyway. Just wondering. You can go back to doing whatever it was You were doing. Don’t mind me.
Love in Christ,
addCredit(“Whitney Houston: Lester Cohen/WireImage.com”)