Editor’s Edict ~

It's June. It's Hot! And so is this month's Gazette. Our featured Brown Bettie is the smokin' Hayley Marie Norman who is highly revered by many on NBC's "Deal or No Deal" and is burning her way towards a poker-hot plethora of her own silver screen deals. Three brave readers give some warmth to the debate behind why we might choose a Bad Boy for a mate in Two Sides To Every Love Story and we get a hazy glimpse of a woman's point-of-view on the plight of an abandoned shopping cart in Solitude. Mrs. Cecilie Davis Carter gets heated in Unzipped, while my momma offers a tasty treat with "Bananas" in Momma Said. If you’re getting to your summer reading, you'll enjoy our fiction entry with the second installment of "Harlem's Awakening"...the back story to Harlem & Joe. Be sure to pass the Gazette on to the Brown Betties in your life and --Stay Cool!

~xo

Peppur Chambers
The Hot One

The Brown Bettie Boop
By Peppur Chambers

Hayley Maire Norman

Actress, Model

If people come into your life for a season or a reason, then Miss Hayley Marie Norman has potentially come into my life for the sole reason of keeping my ass on the treadmill that much longer! Over the past year we've become gym buddies and during that time, I've seen her career grow leaps 'n bounds. Our schedules did not permit a one-on-one conversation, so we conducted our interview over Myspace.

You have a picture of yourself with Donald Trump, aka "The Donald", on your myspace page. How did that come about?
Mr. Donald Trump has actually become a friend of mine. My friend Lindsay Clubine, introduced us after he appeared on Deal or No Deal. I've had the opportunity to hang out with him on various occasions, and this time was particularly fun because it was for his birthday celebration. They flew us to NY where we stayed at The Trump Towers and ate at the amazing Jean Georges. We then took his private helicopter to Atlantic City where the party was held. I've had the opportunity to go to some really cool events of his. He honestly is a great guy!

We've spent some time together side-by-side on the treadmill; how much time/miles are you up to these days?
lol...Although I still use the treadmill at least a few times a week, I just recently took up Bikram Yoga which I am really excited about! I love it!!

And how is your relationship with the stairmaster going?
The stair master and I are still great friends :) Although, it is a love/hate relationship.

You've had a busy first quarter. Tell us a little of what you've done....
I just completed a lead in a feature film based on a comic book, called Trailer Park of Terror. In case the name didn't give it away, it's a horror film. We honestly had a great cast and crew who have done amazing work. We have some huge studios looking at the film for a theatrical distribution so hopefully it'll be in a theater near you in about a year or so. I also booked a role on The Young and The Restless, and completed a supporting role in another film called Broken Windows. And, I go back to Deal or No Deal in July! So, its been busy, and I expect it to get busier and busier!

Editor insert: If it is solely up to fans, Hayley will be swamped! "franz69" a fan from IMDB (Internet Movie Database) wrote: "I am in love with this woman. She is perfect. I love watching her on tv and I cant wait to see her larger than life on the big screen. I will see [Trailer Park of Terror] just to see her."


What has been your favorite red carpet experience thus far?
I love the glamour of the whole red carpet experience, so I'd have to say all of them! The whole experience of getting ready and preparing can be so fun. Its like prom all over again but way better! :)

What was your first acting role? (Remember, no role is too big or too small!)
Well, I started modeling and doing children’s shows when I was 7. My first commercial was for JC Penney’s! I believe my first TV show was a Disney Family Channel Show called the Great Pretenders. Fergie was the host, but at the time she was Stacey Ferguson of Wild Orchid. The premise of the show was child actors/dancers/ singers performing their favorite musical acts, and then the studio audience voted on one. I got first place!!!

What is one goal you wish to accomplish by the end of 2007?
MORE ACTING ROLES!!! MORE MORE MORE!

Do you like a Bad Boy or Lady's Man? (why/why not)
I like men who look like Bad Boys on the outside, but are tender intellectuals (wow! That sounds soo corny!) on the inside, and of course someone who knows how to treat women. Lady's Men tend to be really into themselves...


For more on Miss Hayley, visit: www.myspace.com/hayleymarienorman

Two Sides To Every Love Story
By The Editor

In honor of Father’s Day, and in yet another way to explore two sides to a love story, I thought it would be interesting to see how we choose a mate when we are a “one” trying to become a “two”.

We’ve read that women tend to choose men who are like their fathers. I did a little research (and I mean a little: just one Google-search worth of research) and found this "Daily Mail" article touting how women choose men who resemble their fathers. I’m a bit more curious about factors beyond resemblance; I want to know this: If a woman has a Bad Boy for a father, will she be doomed (ok, “more likely”) to choose a Bad Boy for her partner? Now, I’d presume my pops is a Bad Boy. I think he’d agree in that he’s pretty confident, handsome, charming, fun-to-be around when its Margarita time…and he’s known to not return my phone calls occasionally (ha!). He’s a great father and we have a great relationship; you can ask my mom or my stepmom about the other qualities that they might feel might make him more of a Bad Boy. So, you can see where I’m going with this. Yes, this about me. I tend to chose Bad Boys. That’s ok, because I’m aware of it and we’ve already established in our first issue that there’s nothin’ wrong with a Bad Boy! Yet, I’m curious. I want to know what other girls think…:

1. If we have a Bad Boy for a father, are we forever destined for Bad Boyness?

Babette (not her real name) says ~
I grew up without [my father] for much of my life after my parent’s divorce...I think that for me...rather than choose a mate that acts like him...I live in constant fear of abandonment.

Kalia says:
I think this can hold true when woman are younger. We often times are acting from learned behavior (of our fathers) and until we are taught or experience otherwise we subconsciously veer toward men with these same tendencies. As we mature and learn from our experiences with men, the real type of man that we desire will become apparent and that is who we will search for in our quest for a long-term mate.

Terri says:
[Well, Terri did not actually answer this question for some reason, but the answer can kinda be found in her answer to the last question.]

2. Is your father a Bad Boy? If “Yes”, do you think he thinks he’s a bad boy?

Babette (again, not her real name)~
He's not a rolling stone or anything like that...but for much of his life stretched the truth out of a sense of wanting things to be grander than they were. [No, I don’t think he thinks he’s a Bad Boy.]

Kalia ~
Yes; Oh he knows it!


2a. If “No”, do you think he wishes he were a Bad Boy?

Babette ~
No.

Terri ~
No. My father is a man. He is not afraid to be sweet and loving, but he can handle his business. He has a sense of humor. He is always educating himself, reading, attending classes on subjects he's interested in. He is a shoulder to lean on. He is a man of faith.

3. What kind of man are you most attracted to?

Babette (still not her name) ~
[That’s a] loaded question, but men who are competent, self assured, thoughtful, logical and whole with a little of jerk sprinkled on top are very attractive. Fit too.

Kalia ~
I'm attracted to a man who has a presence about himself that I recognize to be positive and forward moving. He has to be fun and very much into me! ;o)

Terri ~
A man who is independent. A man who is cuddly in a way with one really charming quality i.e. he has a nice voice or he writes and sings songs. It doesn't have anything to do with his size, but I like a man who can make me feel safe and loved. I don't usually go out with these guys. Guys like my father I usually make my friends. Boyfriends don't last, but friends do just like fathers.

In My Solitude
By Anonymous Cornstarch

In a tiny moment of solitude, I rested my weary head against my car’s headrest while waiting for a evening meeting to begin. I turned and stared for an oddly long time at an overturned, beat-up silver grocery cart abandoned on the sidewalk outside my friend’s apartment. I wondered, “Why??” Why was the cart just … there? To add insult to my injured solitude, a small plastic bag was stuck to it.

I wasn’t sure if I was more intrigued with the plastic bag or the cart. I’d assumed the cart was there due to socio-economic reasons, i.e. the people in the neighborhood had to walk to the grocery store and used the cart to get food back home to the family; as opposed to derelict reasons, i.e. some kids used the cart for a joy ride. The plastic bag was clearly there due to negligence. I’d just listened to a story on NPR [National Public Radio] regarding the abolition of plastic bags in a small town in New Zealand (or somewhere; the guy being interviewed had an accent that sounded like a person from South Africa). The small town grocery stores had done away with all plastic bags and began using a biodegradable bag made of cornstarch that, as I listened to story, began to imagine would simply disintegrate after use… “poosh…Bye-Bye”. Seeing that white plastic bag stuck steadfast to the grocery cart, I’d wished that the New Zealander’s would get their cornstarch to Van Nuys where I was so I could enjoy my moment of solitude.

Unzipped
By Cecilie Davis Carter

I’ve been told I am NICE, KIND, SWEET, UNDERSTANDING, and LOVEABLE. In tough situations I’m usually the one who remains calm and Zen-like. Most times when I’m around, there will be very little discord. In fact, one of my close friends jokingly said that I should name my first born “Harmony.” With me there is pretty much always LOVE, PEACE, and HAPPINESS...

UNLESS...

UNLESS that little Hyundai that is in the FAST lane on the 405 going 20 MPH is holding EVERYONE up…Don’t they know that I have an audition to be at in 20 minutes? (Along with everyone else in LA who is on the freeway at noon on a Monday!)

UNLESS the couple who decides to bring their 2-week old kid to the almost 3-hour 10:00PM showing of Pirates of the Caribbean, sits RIGHT BEHIND ME and of course…CRIES during the IMPORTANT PARTS! (I knew she was a newborn because after the movie I sarcastically asked mom how old her little bundle of joy was!)

UNLESS a crowded elevator can barely unload at the floor level of The Grove parking lot because the overly anxious people who have been waiting are trying to get on before any of us can GET OFF! (RUDE)

UNLESS the grotesquely hairy, sweaty man who has on shorts that are way too little and is riding the stationary bike right in front of me in the crowded 24-hour Fitness spinning class KEEPS PASSING GAS! That is so NASTY.

UNLESS the gross no-manners-having girl who was in the bathroom stall before me decides to drop her used Maxi pad (that has NOT been folded up or wrapped up in toilet paper) on the floor….AND LEAVES IT THERE! Does she not know what that little box is for that is conveniently located right next to the toilet? (She probably didn’t wash her hand either!)

UNLESS that really skinny girlfriend we all have with the perfect body complains that she has to go on a diet because she’s FAT, but she only says it so you will tell her that she’s perfect, and doesn’t need to change a thing!

UNLESS the FINE guy who can pull any girl on his looks alone, and who just so happens to be a “close talker” opens up his mouth and has SERIOUS HALITOSIS… (That’s not ok.)
Unless you are an offender of the above, you will always get the nice, sweet, kind, loveable ME. However, if you are guilty of any of these annoying idiosyncrasies, you will see me UNZIPPED!

Harlem’s Love Story…

For your reading enjoyment, find the second installment of “Harlem’s Awakening”…This is the “True Hollywood Story” (as it were) behind the love affair between Joe and Harlem that plays out in the cabaret, “Harlem’s Night”.

Corner of Debauchery.....Chapter 2
Her black-velvet heels clicked along the sidewalk with speed one would use to hurriedly catch a glimpse of a gruesome dead person hanging from an automobile window before the ambulance people covered him with a sheet. She knew this combination of panic, fear and excitement all too well; it coursed through her veins daily and often caused her to walk much too quickly. She decided to slow down; she had just passed nosy Mrs. Jones, the widow of 147th street, who seemed to live on her front stoop rather than inside her home. Harlem realized that her breathy “Good Evenin’” would become food for Mrs. Jones’ table of gossip tomorrow morning. She could just hear Mrs. Jones and the gaggle of women who gathered daily on her stoop…“That gal was rushin’ off somewhere like her life depended on it”… “Up to no good since her mother died.”

Her mother had died of a rare case of tuberculosis last November. The disease came in like a hurricane. Its’ unsuspecting raindrops swelled into a beast that raged with reckless abandon as it ravaged her mother’s petite frame. And when it left quietly, it took her mother with it. Harlem briskly tightened her lace gloves about her fingers. It hadn’t been quite yet a year since the taking and the mere thought of her mother caused her to cry and she would not allow any tears to ruin her barely-dry mascara. She fell back into the rhythm of her heels as she passed Lenox Avenue. One more block east and another south, and she’d be at the Cornett Lounge.

The Lounge anchored a corner of what Mrs. Jones and her congregation would call debauchery. Several doors down, a liquor store welcomed thirsty consumers with a bright orange neon sign. Its customers and those who preyed on them (namely numbers runners and call girls – one of whom Harlem knew from grammar school but chose at this moment to not recognize) littered the sidewalk. Next to the liquor store, Charlie’s Fried Chicken kept stomachs full late into the night. Harlem had gone there herself with Joe one night after one of his sets. She found nothing wrong with the block and it’s prejudicially labeled “debauchery”. In fact, she welcomed its contained chaos.

Harlem paused to carefully dab the sheer layer of perspiration that danced just above her red ruby lip and beneath her nose. She should have taken the bus. Next time, she promised herself. She inhaled, taking in the faint scent of chicken grease, and pushed through the heavy door. (The Cornett wasn’t classy enough for a door man.) Inside, she was immediately enveloped in warm darkness and a wave of sound. Had she been high on opium, say, she’d swear she could actually see jazz-induced music notes and intact words from a smattering of unsophisticated male-female conversation floating through the wisps of tobacco smoke. She closed her eyes, inhaled once again and allowed herself to become one with all that swirled around her. This could be her heaven.

She bought a loose Camel from the passing “Cigar? Cigarette?” girl who looked like she’d seen better days. She turned and a thrill chill ran through her as she spotted Joe on stage, his head bowed as in prayer, his fingers hard at work on his Bass…she moved, sauntered really, to her favorite spot at the bar which allowed her a centered view of handsome Joe. Her swaying hips caught the attention of several men; one tipped his hat in appreciation. She thanked him politely with a faint smile and coyly shifted her attention back to Joe as she eased onto her cushioned bar stool. She removed her gloves. Unbuttoned her jacket. Smoothed her skirt. Just as she turned to get a light from Scotty, the not-so-handsome-but-very-charming-bartender, she heard, “Harrrrlm. Harrrlm Evans!” It was Harold, her friend Cora’s boyfriend. Never did she hate the sound of her own name more than when it got hurled through the garbled gates of hell known as Harold Crossgrove’s mouth.

(c)2007 Pen and Peppur LLC

Momma Said
By Vicki Rogers

"Bananas"

When I was just a single-digit young girl, my Grandfather Rogers, who in his prime was a burly and strong man, had a stroke. When he became very ill my Grandmother Rogers took care of him at home. I don’t remember his voice, but I do remember his decline: at first he walked with a cane; then he was confined to a wheelchair; and finally he was bedridden until his death when I was in my early double-digits. When he was still walking with a cane I remember he taught me how to whistle but that is just about the only pleasant memory I have of him. This is largely because my grandfather ate bananas. He loved bananas. Long ago on Saturday nights, in my grandmother’s house, we used to mash them up and feed them to him. I remember my grandmother always let the bananas get over ripe then; they were easier to mash she said, easier for grandpa to swallow. Sitting in his wheel chair in the living room with his constant disappointed stare, he’d point with his last straight finger to bananas on this sort of cardboard food Ouija (“Wee-Gee”) board she had made with all his favorites on it. I watched him while everyone else watched Ted Mack's Original Amateur Hour on television. His tongue used to scare me when I was eight, the way he used it like a spatula to scrape the brownish pulp back and forth between those toothless gums. The banana, the consistency of snot, would squish out the sides of his mouth like drool. I thought it was so gross and I gave bananas up for a long while. I have issues with bananas to this day; but now, with one molar missing, I’ve begun to eat bananas again.