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HBO will likely pick up a TV adaptation of Martin Scorsese’s 2010 psychological thriller, Shutter Island, tentatively titled Ashecliffe, Deadline reports.
The premium cable network is still in talks with Paramount Television, but if the deal goes through, Scorsese will likely direct the pilot based on a script by Dennis Lehane, who…… RollingStone.com: News
Neil Young has filed for divorce from Pegi Young, his wife of 36 years and frequent musical collaborator. A petition for dissolution of marriage was filed by Young in their hometown of San Mateo, California, on July 29th. A hearing is scheduled for December 12th. A rep for Neil Young…… RollingStone.com: News
Ben and I decided to go on a nice hike. I brought the camera for the scenery, but taped a lot more than that! While walking down a trail deep in the woods we spotted a MILF sun-tanning. She was HOT! She has two rascals and a large-butt husband. He actually chased us back to the car after Ben came all over his wife! This one was really interesting. Just when you thought things were gonna go real bad, they go real good!
Franz was spying on Jade suntanning topless outside her home. After getting a good look at her boobs, she stood up and busted Franz peeping on her. Franz quickly explained that he was in the area and wanted to ask her some questions for a survey. Jade quickly invited Franz in to finish the survey. Inside she revealed her husband never gives her sex and that she was willing to bang Franz, and that’s exactly what they did! After going down on each other, Franz banged this MILF like a champ then busted a nut on her boobs and hit the road before the husband got home!
Supermodels and music videos go together like, well, supermodels and anything. From “Uptown Girl” to “Yoncé,” here are our favorite music videos featuring supers.
Billy Joel, “Uptown Girl,” 1983
Billy and Christie do a twist on Grease, oh-so-wholesome by today’s standards, in this original supermodel-musician pairing.
Chris Isaak, “Wicked Game,” 1989
The iconic supermodel photographer Herb Ritts directed this black-and-white short on a beach in Hawaii. One of the sexiest music videos of all time, it won three VMAs.
George Michael, “Freedom! ’90,” 1990
Naomi,Cindy,Linda, and Christy mouthing the words to Michael’s liberation anthem is the supermodel moment. Period. The end.
Guns N’ Roses, “November Rain,” 1992
The vision of Stephanie Seymour in a white wedding dress has become the defining image of her—and maybe of Guns N’ Roses.
Michael Jackson, “In The Closet,” 1992
Herb Ritts is behind the camera of a supermodel video again, with a simple formula: desert, black-and-white film, few clothes. And when you’re Naomi, that’s all you need.
Michael Jackson, “Remember the Time,” 1992
Michael Jackson set this period piece in an Egyptian palace. Who else but Iman could be his Nefertiti?
RuPaul, “Supermodel (You Better Work),” 1993
He isn’t technically a supermodel, but if anyone is an honorary, it’s all 6′ 4″ of RuPaul—he sang [honorary, it's RuPaul—all 6' 4" of him. He sang the anthem...] the anthem that made us all feel like Naomi. You. Better. Work.
Jay Z, “Change Clothes,” 2003
This is Naomi’s third appearance on this list—she’s the super of all supers, at least in the music world. In this Jay Z video, she performs the infamous runway walk that made her a star.
The White Stripes, “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself,” 2003
We’re not sure where Kate Moss learned to work a stripper pole like this, but it’s why she’s Kate Moss and we’re not.
Beyoncé, “Yoncé,” 2013
Maybe it takes Yoncé to inaugurate a new generation of supers. When she cast Jourdan Dunn,Joan Smalls, and Chanel Iman in this video, it became a true fashion moment.
Sam is the resident ladies man and a born performer. Although he’s often single, Sam flirts with girls whenever he has a chance. Sam is the life of the party and loves to hit the dance floor with his good friend Hilly.
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This giraffe wants to be part of the (motorcycle) gang.
Although generally it’s not advisable to hang too close to wild animals, this giraffe was pretty friendly when he stumbled across a group of motorcyclists on the road. The animal tried to clamber up on top of a bike, his spindly legs slipping against the side.
Unfortunately, the motorcycle that he may have mistaken for another giraffe wasn’t exactly made for him.
Forget the VMAs and the Emmys. The final episode of “Chelsea Lately” looks like the most star-studded party of the year.
Practically all of Hollywood joined together on Aug. 26 to sing host Chelsea Handler a hilarious goodbye song. There are seriously too many celebrities to count, but here’s an obligatory name-drop to prove our point: Gwen Stefani, Jennifer Aniston, Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, Sandra Bullock, Gerard Butler, Vanessa Hudgens, Wiz Khalifa, Alanis Morissette, Melissa McCarthy, Dave Grohl … do you believe us yet?
Even the Kardashian Klan, who were not there for obvious reasons, got a shout out. Avril Lavigne sang in her solo line, “She can’t go on faking every day that Chelsea cares about Kim and Kanye,” referencing when Handler said that having to report on the Kardashians was part of her decision to leave the network.
Tim Gunn followed up with, “She’s done with ‘Teen Moms’ and Justin Bieber too.”
We’ve all seen cut-to-the-bellybutton wedding dresses and sexy back wedding dresses that dip dangerously low. If those aren’t your scene, how about this: From the front, Anne Barge's Devoted wedding dress looks downright demure. But…
There are those moments during Fashion Week when a look comes down the runway that leaves editors weak at the knees. One such head-turning piece is the Burberry Prorsum poncho from fall 2014. It might not appear to be the easiest trend to pull off, at first glance, but every good stylist knows that a blanket coat will work with just about everything in your wardrobe—jeans, sneakers, and heels, too. Cara Delevingne added a downtown vibe to the boho favorite with low-key high-top sneakers and a cropped sweater, and her duster coat lended a ladylike finish. Olivia Palermo threw a new twist on wrapping up with over-the-knee boots and shorts, while Rosie Huntington-Whiteley took a polished approach to accessorizing with a fedora and elegant gray suede boots.
Okay Unemployed Twenty Somethings of America (or UTSA’s as I like to call them). I’ve recently entered one of the hardest markets for young Americans across the country. Harder than the MCAT, GRE, and LSAT combined (I think… Lord knows I’m not really heading in that direction. I’ll never be a doctor. But maybe I’ll play one on TV. Sorry Mom.) And that is the market of apartment hunting. And because I’ve just recently been approved for a beautiful cardboard box, I mean 3 bedroom flat, I don’t think I’m jinxing myself by bringing this process to light.
Uh ok. So point blank: it’s really hard. In my mind, I envisioned being brought to the penthouse apartment of a 5th Avenue building and being told by Mr. Big “I got this one baby.” And then go to lunch with my friends to tell them I’m entering the world of luxury living. Well, that wasn’t the case, partly because I don’t have a Mr. Big. Nor am I moving to New York. But Chris Noth does live in my hometown neighborhood in LA! Hit me up whenever Biggie Noth! (Sorry everyone. Inside joke between us. You wouldn’t understand.)
Ok. Back to reality. I arrived in Chicago as a wide-eyed idiot 2 weeks ago, thinking the world of Chicago realty would immediately hit me up on OKCupid for meet-ups, casual drinks, and the guarantee of a serious future. What I found initially were a number of one night stands that left me feeling empty, cheated, and, most of all, homeless. Here’s a summary of how most apartment showings would go
Me: “Wow. This apartment looks great! I’d love to put in an application for it! I’m sure my roommates and I would love it!”
Broker/Leaser/Questionable Part-time Drug Dealer: “Ok sure. Here’s an application. (Hands Alex an application. #stagedirections) So tell me about yourself!”
Me: “Well, my roommate and I just graduated from college, and we’re both moving out to Chicago for the first time!”
Broker: “That’s great. And congratulations on finishing your degree! So you both got jobs out here?”
Me: “Oh. Not exactly.”
Broker: “What do you mean?”
Me: “Well, we’re coming out here to be actors.”
Broker: “…I see.” (Pause.)
And as if that pause wasn’t enough to make me feel inadequate, insufficient, incompetent, and other in-synonyms, the next question is, without failure:
Broker: “So you’re… unemployed?”
Ugh. They always say it as such a heathen term. Like you’ve already had a major life screw up. I, on the other hand, like to think that being unemployed means I’m still completely open to all of life’s options! Including full time nannying, waving a sign, and addiction to crack cocaine. But sure enough, whenever I confirmed that I was currently not making a steady income, I was suddenly Drew Barrymore at the of Never Been Kissed when everyone finds out she’s a 25 year old news reporter, and not a 17 year old high school senior. Seriously, how did she pull that off for a whole semester?? But the leaser or broker always made some BS excuse for why I wasn’t getting it. Such as: “It’s just business kid. Nothing personal.” Seriously? Shut up. And then, they dropped the most a-hole bomb by saying that they were giving it to:
A F$ *#@ing Young Professional.
If you aren’t sure what that term means, just walk down a major city street after 5pm, Monday-Friday. It’ll be a group of dudes, under 35, wearing suits, who look like they suck at everything besides making money. No offense. It’s just a generalization. There’s gotta be a gem somewhere out there. But maybe not. But yea, 99% of the time, we were losing out to the 1%. And let me tell you, the 1% is a lot bigger than you think. It was truly exhausting. And with the September 1st deadline looming closer and closer, we kept at it because, well, you just kinda have to.
So, after a rigorous week of traversing the humid city on my trusty and rusty bike, getting rejected by two or a million apartments, and crying to my mom (Yup, that’s real), God entered my life in the name of Kyle Something Something* (*changed for protection purposes. Actually, I just don’t remember his last name). But oh man, you guys. Every time I thought of him, I got just the smallest hint of stimulation. You know how people get off from having sex or whatever? Well, I was getting off from the near possibility of getting to call somewhere a place where I could put all my shit and then quickly forget about it. It’s intoxicating. The thought of not being homeless had never been so sexy.
Kyle, a young leaser who knows what’s up, understood our situation and trusted that we had money saved up to at least guarantee rent for the first few months. And with our adamant search for work in the city, he took a leap of faith with us and asked for our signatures. Who, me??? Oh stop!! Just kidding. Yes please! And with that, I knew the hardest part of moving was past me. I had finally found somewhere to call my shithole. Actually, the place is beautiful and a steal, and I can’t wait to move in!
So I don’t know if there’s a moral here. But what I can say is that you will find a place! Someone will take you on and pray to God that you have nice parents to help you out in times of poverty. And hopefully, that time is not forever. And don’t think you have to put your creative dreams aside to please a broker. Those dreams are the whole reason you moved anyways.
It’s that time of year again. The September issue of Vogue is out — all 856 pages of glossy fabulousness. And just like every year, I will happily devour every one of them, trying to shape, in my mind, my grown up look.
At 44 — which technically is well into being considered a grown up — I have yet to master the look I aspire to. My style of dressing consists of what is basically a series of uniforms. Designer jeans with a white button down shirt or tee, silk shirts and slim black pants, form fitting dresses (preferably RVN and Karen Millen) and causal print pants with a tank top or a maxi dress for weekends.
Pretty much everything except my Pilates clothes (and even those — black Lululemon or Phat Budha leggings and a Gap tank top) is all I wear. Now mind you, my closet is very full and I am often giving clothes away to my best friends Kim and Virginia and my daughter, Lexi, but then I seem to buy exactly the same things over again. And while I love my “uniforms” it would be nice to branch out a bit.
Being in your 40s is an interesting time for dressing. You are still young enough to be somewhat experimental but can no longer get away with every trend that comes along. You can go the sophisticated look a la Vogue, you can go the more casual, yet in it’s own way elegant, jean look a la Jennifer Aniston and then there is everything in between from busy executive, pampered housewife to sports lover. All the way to soccer mom in relaxed capri jeans and comfortable shoes — a look which absolutely terrifies me. These are obviously all clichés but you get the point. There are some people, though, who just seem to always get it right like my friend Ana Bogusky. Check out her blog Mrs. American Made to see for yourself and get inspired.
I interview many women on my show Perspectives, who look fabulous and are truly comfortable with themselves and in their own skin.
Here are some of the top tips I have culled from my guests, friends and of course, Vogue:
10 Keys To Looking Fabulous In Your 40s
1. Dress for the body you actually have, not the one you wish you had. I once read an article about Olatz Schnabel. She said that by 35, a woman should understand her body and dress to compliment it. I’ve always remembered that and agree completely.
2. Do not try to follow every trend. Or almost any trend.
3. Don’t shop in the juniors department. You’re done there. Trust me.
4. Invest in quality clothes and shoes. If your feet hurt it’s hard to feel great no matter how good you look. Make sure to mix in some fun lower-end things to liven things up.
5. Wear things that fit. Too tight does not make you look thinner and too short is rarely flattering.
6. Be realistic about what looks good on you — and don’t feel bad about what doesn’t work. You are old enough to know that as lovely as everyone looks in Vogue — they are all airbrushed and many are really hungry!
7. Exercise, eat well and drink plenty of water. Your clothes will fit better and you will feel better wearing them.
8. Spend time and money on your skin and hair. After 40, it’s even more important.
9. Tailor everything. Clothes look better when they fit you perfectly.
10. Know that there is nothing as beautiful as confidence. Yes, yes, corny — but so true. Confidence is mesmerizing.
I love how my friend Tanya puts it: “As I age gracefully or not depending on how you look at it, I am profoundly comfortable in my own skin. With all of my inadequacies and shortcomings. I no longer have a need to try and package myself into something that I am not.” For Tanya her appearance is less about clothes and as it turns out it meant getting a tattoo recently. At 47.
As for me, tomorrow I am cutting my hair. A lot. Although it may be slightly diminished as it currently seems to be the trend, but I don’t think I will have long hair again. It just does not feel right for me anymore. Although luckily it’s just hair and it can grow if I change my mind. Which is something you can do in your 40s. So here is to new haircuts, dressing well, feeling fabulous and having great friends to inspire you every step of the way. Style – The Huffington Post
FASHION NEWS UPDATE-Visit Shoe Deals Online today for the hottest deals online for shoes!
“Pretty Little Liars” has been teasing one big death all summer, and on Tuesday, during its “Fatal Finale,” the show killed off one of its most divisive characters. SPOILERS AHEAD!
As many fans predicted, Mona Vanderwal, the original A, didn’t make it out alive. She was seemingly murdered in her home by an unknown blonde girl — we have our guesses! — after an hour of switching sides for good. In the beginning of the episode, the liars teamed up with Mona after Alison convinced Mona’s A-team to join her “army.” There was an undercover trip to Radley, a car accident that injured Toby and a lot of excitement about Christmas decorations.
Most of summer finale revolved around finding out more information on Bethany, who was buried alive by Melissa — we found that out last week — after she thought Bethany was Alison. The snooping worked, and the two girls’ connection was revealed: Bethany’s father was having an affair with Mrs. DiLaurentis and the two girls knew each other. Turns out, Alison lured Bethany to Rosewood because she was jealous and wanted to kill her. Okay, sure. We’ll buy this for now. Also, Rosewood’s finest arrested Spencer for Bethany’s murder after Alison gave a cryptic lie detector test.
But back to Mona’s death: Often in “Pretty Little Liars” land, nothing is as it seems. Sure, we saw a blood-spattered house and Mona’s cold dead body wrapped in sheets, eyes wide open, but do we believe the show? Is Mona really dead for good? Janel Parrish, who plays Mona, recently told Cosmopolitan, “Ultimately when people die in Rosewood, sometimes they stay dead. This person is dead.” Parrish also confirmed that she’ll appear on the show next season in flashbacks.
MONA MURDERED. Yep. It’s true Don’t worry guys! I’m still gonna be on the show in flashbacks!!!! #PLLChat
Dating is a good experience like none other especially when you are in love. Seeing two people in love is the best experience and it is very admirable but the only problem is that finding that special one. There are many people out there who are potential soul mates but not all can fit. Everyone has their own preferences and they have to match up. Relationships:Dating Articles from EzineArticles.com
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I am the perfect balance of lady in the living room and whore in the bedroom. I have an insatiable desire for the naughtiest of pleasures and love everything from the art of simple teasing to the most erotic of taboo.
My stats: Eye Color: brown Hair Color: auburn Measurements: lglg Ethnicity: white Height: short Age: 50 Visit Me Live
Taylor Swift has gone pop, and Justin Bieber’s gone country?
OK, so the embattled pop prince isn’t exactly recording a new album in Nashville, but he set Instagram on fire today with his cover of a sacred Johnny Cash song. Bieber posted a short video of himself, shirtless with guitar in hand,…… RollingStone.com: News
Most country fans and Nashville tourists know of and might have even been to Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge and Robert’s Western World, two of Music City’s most famous honky-tonks. But a mile or two away from the neon lights and roaming bachelorette parties of Lower Broadway, in the thriving Midtown neighborhood,…… RollingStone.com: News
Tommy picked up this MILF, Sheryl, during a little walk downtown. When Tommy asked her about her sex life it was obvious she wasn’t getting enough and needed more. She agreed to come back to the studio to finish the survey. Once there, Tommy broke the ice with the old I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Of course this naturally worked and the rest you’ll just have to check out!
It’s the oldest trick in the book – blond MILF Sabal acts helpless in order to get young buck Jonny over to her crib, but really she’s a crafty model who knows exactly what she’s doing! She bends over in front of the alpha male in a calculated way, knowing that his eyes are going to be fixated on her firm rump – it’s virtually revealed by her minuscule dress! Soon the pretty babe has the dude’s hands all over her hefty fake tits, exactly where she wants them! The blow job is awesome, with the blond MILF showing the benefit of years of cocksucking experience, and then she rides the stud like a pro, expertly extracting his sperm.
Chia seeds are a great way to create healthy, protein-rich recipes in a flash without extra ingredients. Load up on these super seeds and toss them into everything from water to oatmeal. For these recipes,…
Photographed by Mario Testino, Vogue, September 2011
To be a model in this day and age is to live some degree of your life in public—or at the very least in front of the camera—where, with hair, makeup, and lighting, a model may be transformed into a goddess, gamine, gazelle, or Vogue cover girl. But prior to Twiggy (the first model to be the subject of a modern-day media blitz), the private lives of most models were little known. That’s changed with the concept of the multitasking modern “model/slash” and the social-media explosion that spawned a phenomenon we’re calling the Instagirls.
Vogue has had consistent insider access over the years, and iconic beauties like Kate Moss and Liya Kebede, who have allowed the magazine a glimpse of their lives not only as models, but as mothers. To that end, Mario Testino went to Scotland to snap Stella Tennant with her brood on the moors, and Irving Penn documented four generations of high-spirited and endlessly chic de la Falaises in black and white.
Above, the model mothers (and their preternaturally photogenic broods) as they have appeared in Vogue.
Don’t miss this special report on Tuesday, August 26, at 9/8c.
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In the wake of the shooting death of Michael Brown, spiritual life coach Iyanla Vanzant takes an emotional trip to Ferguson, Missouri, listening and working with the community to help formulate a plan for peace and healing.
For more Iyanla: Fix My Life, visit http://www.oprah.com/Iyanla
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From modern canvas art to bold kitchen backsplashes, wallpaper is quickly becoming so much more than a great paint-free way to quickly fill a blank wall. It can be used on almost anything in every room of the house, and its impressive versatility is definitely catching our eye.
Still not convinced? The inspiring (and inventive) examples below should surely do the trick.
1. Cover your windows.
Paper vinyl shades and consider it the perfect alternative to other window treatments.
Are you an architect, designer or blogger and would like to get your work seen on HuffPost Home? Reach out to us at email@example.com with the subject line “Project submission.” (All PR pitches sent to this address will be ignored.) Style – The Huffington Post
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At Monday night’s Emmys, Gwen Stefani pulled a John Travolta, announcing the winner of Outstanding Variety Series as “The Colbore Report.” Then, in a short 24 hours, the show responded in the best way by acknowledging its new name in the opening credits.
Colbert also worked in a cool video from the Emmys in the show’s opening:
While we were all checking out the pretty makeup and striped nails at the Emmy Awards, Malin Akerman was out debuting Miley-Cyrus-esque partially shaved haircut at one of the after parties. It's a bit edgier…
Photographed by Awol Erizku; Sittings Editor: Alex Harrington
Punk is dead? The rebellious concert-goers spotted at Brooklyn’s tenth annual Afropunk Festival this past Sunday would beg to differ. Descending upon Commodore Barry Park, they painted a picture of radical iconoclasm, echoing the energy that reverberated in the musical acts onstage with their chaotic, free-form curls, twists, locs, and braids.
For the artist Awol Erizku, who captured the most striking among them with his camera for Vogue.com, the process of documenting their individual looks was about more than a good photograph. Instead, the lensman focused on illuminating the symmetry and sculptural beauty of black hair and the sentiment attached to it. “I think [black hair] is beautiful because it can be shaped, shaved, cut, whatever. That’s what I was trying to find today—people who had that kind of hair and who embraced it and were proud of it.”
Among that prideful pack was Vogue September cover girl Imaan Hammam, who bounded onto the set and immediately swung into supermodel action, tossing her festoon of curls from side to side and offering Moroccan facial-mask recipes before dashing off to see D’Angelo headline. This while DJ/nightlife princess Juliana Huxtable flicked her back-grazing braids and puckered her painted blue lips for the camera. Odd Future’s funk/soul crew, known as The Internet, parted a sea of adoring fans as they passed by to say hello, stopping to talk about their natural ’dos and mutual “beauty crushes” on fellow Afropunk performers SZA and Zoë Kravitz.
Before the day was over, Erizku’s station had become a hub for those with the most gravity-defying hair. Hailing from Siberia and Brooklyn, Berlin and Toronto, the international pack was happy to mingle with their fellow provocateurs and share the secrets behind a “D.I.Y.” approach to hair that utterly defies tradition. Because after all, what’s more punk rock than overthrowing the beauty status quo?
This is what I do. A kind of secret I’m letting you in on. I line my lips with a Nars rose tinted pencil, I pat my eyelids with fine Lorac powder, I dab a rosy MAC stain on my cheekbones — which are lost these days but then like magic they appear, blossom colored, vibrant, almost like they used to be. I do this and more — so much more — after I brush my teeth, before I go to the gym, when I need to run to CVS for toilet paper, as I walk toward the ocean shore. I do this all the time. I am that woman.
You look nice without that stuff, my husband says, none the wiser that even when I appear bare-faced, I am not. It’s painstaking, the blending, smearing, patting, so that nothing shows, but it’s always there, a fine layer of dust and shimmer like a veil, shrouding me from the world because I don’t know how else to do it.
At 10, I stand in Woolworth’s and choose a 99-cent lipstick, because that’s all I’ve got, a dollar and 25 cents, for tax. It smells like moth balls and plastic and leaves my mouth dry and caked, but now the coral will catch their eye and not the sad state of my front teeth. I want Mood Lipsticks and Kissing Koolers, but they’re too expensive. I want Dial-A-Lash and Jane eyeshadows. I want the whole aisle. I dream of Maybelline.
At 12, I run my fingers over my forehead and feel the bumps, like grains of sand, white and tiny, pimples sprinkled from temple to temple and I want to cry. I swipe my skin with a white sponge, now soaked with Max Factor Silk Perfection in Deep Beige, even though I’m miles away from anything beige. I paint my face trying not to look at it. I dream of Prescriptives. I dream of beauty you can’t buy at the supermarket, but I can’t afford it, just yet.
At 17, I run into the bathroom, my boyfriend still sleeping, and I trace my fingers under my eyes and I fumble for my jar of concealer. My hands shake. I smooth my mouth with a tiny slanted sponge until my lips glimmer with Cover Girl Outlast Antique Rose. I pick the clumps of mascara from my eyelashes, tearing out one or two in the process. I reapply. I spend my teenage years doing this; reapplying. I love my boyfriend but he is new and he has never seen my face unmasked. I envy the boys with acne scars in broad daylight because there is nothing on TV to tell them they should hide their flaws.
At 21, Sephora changes my life. I can dawdle, my wrist a collage of colors and charcoal lines, my wrist stained for hours after. I am left to my devices, what will make me prettier better a painting come to life. I run into the store mid-auditions, after lunches, to freshen up, to try something I’d never buy like that 45-dollar Chanel bronzer.
At 30, I am smart, sassy, outspoken, married, a new mom. I am better than makeup but it’s an old habit and those don’t die, they can only dwindle if you look the other way, but I can’t. I am sleepless and sore from breastfeeding. I am a walking zombie, but two coats of Great Lash calm me down.
I want to say makeup brings me happiness, because it does. But I don’t know why I f**king need it so much. I don’t know why my purse is eternally weighed down by expensive compacts and cover up sticks and blush brushes. I don’t know why I can wear the same shirts for weeks and years but I buy new lip balms every few days and when I do I spend too much — do you want a basket, honey? — and I give away all my old shit to the babysitter’s daughters and I am joyful as I unwrap the new stash, the beautiful cellophane tearing like translucent skin.
My mother curled her lashes with a kitchen knife and that was it. There was nothing to pilfer from her pocketbook or bedroom nightstand. She showed her freckles as they were. She had pretty, mauve lips that never saw a purchased shade, not until I began buying and sharing. So where, then? Where does it come from — me at the vanity, expert now, at how to become flawless. It is a vestige of feeling hapless, worthless, less than, a foreigner. The one way to mesh in, to blend in, was by literally doing just that. By snapping my fingers and voila; a better version, a face like I dreamed of — perfect, pleasant, like an American sitcom.
At 37, I go to a beach house with my family. I pack my pink Marc Jacobs cosmetics bag, just golden sun-kissed colors, copper shimmers, plus Bobbi Brown eyebrow pencil, plus a base, just in case, plus three different face creams. But somehow I’ve forgotten the mascara. The mascara is crucial. It brings out the blue in my gray eyes, and helps me look awake. It’s not waterproof but that doesn’t matter. For three days, I tan and swim and play board games with the neighbors and laugh and eat burgers grilled to perfection, all the while hoping no one notices my eyelashes, which, without help, look like thinning whiskers. I ponder running out for groceries and stopping by a drugstore, anything will do, Rimmel, NYX, whatever. But I don’t. I tell myself I can do it. I tell myself I am a grownup, I am curvy and newly-bronzed from midday rays, and I am fine. My hair smells like sea salt and Pantene. I don’t need makeup. I am laying in the sand, on the water’s edge, and it doesn’t matter what my eyes look like. My husband loves me and he’s seen me worse. It’s ok.
Why is it that a woman has such a hard time feeling good in her skin when her skin is stripped bare of potions and lotions and creams, when there is not filter or Photoshop? They will point and stare, and worse, they will leave a comment. Even those magazine editorials boasting “STARS WITHOUT MAKEUP” are touched up and perfected. I flip through the pages, through the morning time selfies and I know, I know there is concealer.
We get back home and I go upstairs and find the shiny tubes, so many, Black Noir, Volume Pump, Smashbox Photo Op. I take a shower and wipe my face clean. And then I cover it all up.
Before his public downfall in 2005, Pat O’Brien seemed like the type of celebrity who had it all together. He was a well-liked entertainment news anchor on “The Insider,” he routinely rubbed elbows with stars like Angelina Jolie and Kevin Costner, and he took full advantage of the numerous perks his celebrity status provided. He also drank — a lot.
In private, O’Brien frequently turned to alcohol to help fill a void that remained hidden from the outside world. Even on the last day he ever drank, O’Brien admits he went through 14 bottles of wine, an amount Oprah calls “inconceivable” during their sit-down for “Oprah: Where Are They Now?”
Still, O’Brien hadn’t considered himself an alcoholic. No one else did either; to the public, he was at the top of his game with nothing to complain about. The reality, he says, was much more of an internal struggle.
“The thing about ‘fame’ is that we are people who love to be loved by strangers,” O’Brien tells Oprah. “We can’t get enough… You want more, more, more. The only number you have is ‘more.’”
This insatiable thirst for adoration becomes a void in which many celebrities find themselves lost, battling against unhappiness. As O’Brien sees it, there are far more unhappy stars than happy. “I can name, out of all of them, 10 really happy ones,” he says.
The truly happy celebrities have figured out something very important about not just their star status, but life in general.
“I wake up every morning now and I look in the mirror, and I say, ‘I want to be the person that I want to be today. Not who they want me to be,’” he explains, gesturing toward the camera. “I work for that every day.”
Oprah agrees, but wonders how a man like O’Brien lacked the self-awareness that often accompanies that longer life experience. Ego, he tells her.
“[I was] full of myself… A lot of people are like that,” O’Brien says. “But, thank God I figured it out. I’m so grateful for all that.”
Hi, i'm tina. i am 21yrs old… i live in the sunshine state.. i do have a daugther who is a yr old… i like to swim, play basketball, ride bikes, movies, dinneing out, and watchin football.. any more questions just ask.
I'm a loving, understanding, caring and very sweet lady. I'm just a simple, passionate, romantic and trustworthy woman. I'm serene and mysterious, giving, sincere, patient, friendly and attractive. I'm also cheerful and full of life. I'm a very romantic woman who loves to go to different places to relax and enjoy it. I believe in love and life and the happiness it may bring to me.
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well what can i say i have 8 tattoo's and more to come soon i am a shy girl to begin with but once you get to know me i am fine i like to go out drinking now and again but usualy i drink at home alone i know sad eh lol i enjoy all types of music but mainly rock,punk,gothic,death metal i love to watch horror movies especialy hellraier
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an observer,a thinker,a doer,not necessarily in that order. If you are any of the above,then we already have something in commonbut not
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I Play Basketball Ilove Hot wings ilove the color red ilove havin fun and duin new things with those who are willing to have fun as well ilike getten to kno new people i love massages , if yu have any questions please ask iwell answr all if ur interested in me we could talk about meeting and having a lil fun im down if you are lol jss hit me up
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someone who is honest, and loves to have a nice conversation about absolutley anything and everything. someone who loves to go to restaurants, clubs, pubs and have a good time. who loves music and computer games. who loves to chill. who doesnt smoke and doesnt drink too much. also someone who doesnt take drugs.
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I like to think of myself as a chilled out kind of person who enjoys having fun with like minded people.
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I like to spend time with guys that are caring, intelligent and fun.
Looks Aren't really all that important to me. I would like to be with someone who I feel a connection with and who likes me for myself.
I do have a daughter so I would need someone who is child friendly. I would also, ideally, like someone who shares some of my ideals and that I have a few things in common with.
When David Letterman announced that he would be leaving The Late Show earlier this year, it raised more questions than answers: Would he do another project? What’s the plan for the final shows? What will become of Paul Shaffer, his musical director and comedic foil of 32 years?
Wily bastard, Richie Deville is at it again poaching fresh MILFs by the park in his own zany gonzo series “MILF Search!” He stumbles on Kylie Knight, a rather milky-white, voluptuous to the max MILF who’s run into some car trouble. Richie talks sweet sugar in her ear about how gorgeous she is and how he can post up the money in swap for a pornshoot! The wheels come off this bitch quick with Richie stripping Kylie down, exposing her natural double D’s. Then, he eats that beaver like shrimp fried rice, bashing her pink clit with his tongue. Watch him take this platinum blond mommy to Pound Town!
Even though Labor Day Weekend isn't quite here yet, we've already hit fast forward to fall—with cool jewelry trends, shopping lists, and, my favorite, outerwear. Of course, I already included a cape in my fall…
As the globe-sprawling Fashion Month draws near, the swirl of fresh faces and veterans on the runway can start to feel a little overwhelming. And so to that end we’ve compiled the ultimate list of the model tribes that you need to know. Whether they be social media supers like Karlie and Cara, street style mavens like Liu Wen and Hanne Gaby Odiele, flaxen-haired or fiery, modern pinups or with tots in tow, these are the ones to watch.
Social Media Supers
In an age where entire careers can be made and lost through social media, it should come as no surprise that the highest-performing models are also the most widely followed. The young, heavy-hitters of the like-obsessed generation? @kendalljenner, whose Instagram posse has almost 13 million followers, @caradelevingne, who tops out around six million, and @karliekloss with over one million. Following closely behind are @officialjdunn, @joansmalls, and @sukiwaterhouse. And although their accounts may differ in content, there is one common trait: When you’re a top model, there is #nofilter needed.
Runways in the Family
For a small but select group of models, a runway beat is literally embedded in their DNA. There’s Kenya Kinski, the daughter of German actress and model Nastassja Kinski; Lily McMenamy, who shares the same pout as her nineties supermodel mother Kristen McMenamy; sister act Edie Campbell and Olympia Campbell, whose mother is former British Vogue editor Sophie Hicks and grandmother Joan Hicks was a model in the fifties. And who could forget Georgia May Jagger, offspring of the ultimate model-rockstar match—not to mention Keith Richard’s grandaughter Ella Rose Richards, whose mother Lucie de la Falaise walked for Yves Saint Laurent.
The Angel Hair Posse
Do blondes have more fun? They certainly seem to on the runways—in fact, the current bleached-out model look is so light, it’s blanched. Platinum blondes to look out for? Soo Joo Park and her pin-straight peroxide strands, the arctic mane of Nastya Sten, Esmerelda Seay-Reynolds’ bleached waves, Julia Nobis’ alabaster locks, Jean Campbell’s flaxen tresses, and Aymeline Valade’s golden fringe.
Move over Russia and Brazil, the motherland of insouciant style—otherwise known as la France—is now leading the model culture club. Get acquainted with the French faces you’re going to be channeling this season: the gamine Manon Leloup, the coltish Cindy Bruna, the angelic Cora Emmanuel, and the smoldering Anais Mali.
The appeal of boy-meets-girl style couldn’t be more alluring right now, and it’s having a knock-on effect on the fresh new faces in fashion too. For this generation’s androgynous beauties, look no further than Saskia de Brauw’s sculpted features, Binx Walton’s boyish charms, Edie Campbell’s asymmetrical short black mullet, Freja Beha Erichsen’s slinky menswear look, and the razor cheekbones of Jamie Bochert.
From the original runway redheads like Maggie Rizer and Karen Elson, to newcomers with blazing manes like Magdalena Jasek, Rianne van Rompaey, Madison Stubbington, or Natalie Westling, the rarest hair color in the world is now the hottest commodity on the runway.
There must be something in the water they give out backstage: Model moms seem to always possess an enviable post-baby glow. (And a bounce-back body to rival that of a professional athlete.) Our favorite model mothers? Lily Aldridge with her daughter Dixie, Arizona Muse and her son Nikko, Doutzen Kroes and her (now two!) youngsters, Miranda Kerr and her son Flynn, Jourdan Dunn and her son Riley, and Sasha Pivovarova and her daughter Mia.