Played checkers with Whitney Houston last night. She didn't present much of a challenge. Her enthusiasm for the game was high, but she kept on confusing the rules with those of Hungry Hungry Hippo.

"Where's that hungry hippo at?" she asked. "Bet he's real hungry by now!"

I won eleven games in a row. It wasn't particularly satisfying, but coming off my loss to Pat O'Brien I took it.

"Checkers isn't nearly as good as Night Court," Whitney Houston complained.

"Well, they're two completely different things," I replied. Her Night Court references were becoming almost as annoying as "Tony's" stories about his childhood dog. "One's a game, the other is a television show," I said. "Not sure how you can compare them."

She glared at me like she wanted to kickbox. "You are NOT better than Night Court," she said.

Then she stormed off.

The sweat stain she left on my chair is still there. From a certain angle it appears to be in the shape of an otter.