While I was home on-leave from the LA Grid last week, I happened to run into several habitual crack users, rock heads or whatever the parlance is these days, and let me tell you two things: One, they stay in the bathroom waaaay too long, and two, the smell of burnt cocaine mixed with kerosine can be oddly endearing. Please, someone forcibly open Whitney Houston's bathroom door and get her to an Israeli Rehab Clinic, pronto. (Via National Inquierer)