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Oh No They Didn't! -

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    Alright ladies, and gentleman, I’ll give you all a moment to ogle at the hottness that is Josh Hutcherson in a suit.

    Done? Good. The Hunger Games star looked extremely handsome and chic in New York City today as he made his way to the Late Show With David Letterman. Josh is currently in press mode for his latest flick Red Dawn, which stars fellow uber hottie Chris Hemsworth.

    Personally, I can’t wait till Josh gets to back being a brunette again. I mean, the whole blonde this is great, but he looks way more…manly, I guess is the right word, with brown hair. So when do we get to see more of Josh in his Hunger Games garb?

    Their set has been a fairly quiet one. There aren’t even any good stories. Oh wait, Jennifer Lawrence rear ended someone cause of Honey Boo Boo. Now that’s a good story. Hopefully Josh will have some good ones too.

    Launch the gallery to check out all the photos of Josh in his snazzy suit. I’ve made a decision: attractive men should only wear suits or be shirtless. Can we all agree on this decision?


    YASSS he looks so good. I like his hair like this. Josh is on the Late Show With David Letterman TONIGHT!

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    Actress Kelly Preston has decided to speak out about her 16-year-old son Jett Travolta's death, almost four years after the tragedy occurred.

    John Travolta's wife appeared as a guest on The Doctors (airing Nov. 21), and discussed Jett's medical conditions and what she and her husband feel are the factors that lead to their son's disabilities.

    "Do not believe a lot of the things you read," Preston said about media reports directly following her son's death, "[Jett] was autistic. He had seizures, and when he was very young, he had Kawasaki syndrome."

    Preston believed that autism and seizures contributed to Jett's death, and that they were caused by a collection of factors that included Kawasaki syndrome, complications from her "fast and hard" labor, and the use of antibiotics while breast feeding. The antibiotics, Preston said, "gave [Jett] thrush," an infection of Candida yeast, which some studies have linked with the symptoms of autism.

    The actress also advocated organic eating and trying to diminish the intake of foods containing pesticides and chemicals, which she believes are contributors to the rising rates of disease and autism in children.

    In January 2009, a police spokeswoman told E! News that Jett apparently banged his head on a bathtub after suffering a seizure at the family's getaway at the Old Bahama Bay Hotel on Grand Bahama Island. Efforts were made to revive Jett, but he was pronounced dead at Rand Memorial Hospital.


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    Sarah Jessica Parker and her Sex and the City character Carrie Bradshaw have come to define the style of a generation of women.

    SATC fans fell in love with New Yorker Carrie's brilliantly bonkers wardrobe, and off-screen the diminutive star is almost as creative with her looks.
    She's often photographed looking hot in haute couture or working a fabulous red carpet dress months before anyone else can even think about buying it, and she's loved for the risks she takes with her wardrobe.
    But SJP says she's no style icon.

    Shrugging off the label of fashion guru the actress told Vogue:‘ It's not how I think of myself and think it's probably the healthier approach.’
    She went on to add, rather philosophically: ‘It's not an identity that I connect to. I'm grateful if anyone says anything kind, and if they say something less kind, I take that as a part of anyone talking about you at all.’

    Despite this confession the mother-of-three, who has graced the cover of Vogue and is top of most fashion house's best-dressed lists, says her love of fashion remains as strong as ever.
    Admitting that red carpet glamour will always be something she enjoys, Sarah says that her three children James, 10, and three-year-old twins Tabitha and Marion mean that high glamour is no longer part of her everyday life.

    ‘I love beautiful things and I'm privileged to borrow a beautiful dress. I feel really lucky and genuinely enjoy it. I feel like fashion has a proper place in my life. It's just not a reality everyday.’


    ONTD: what were your favourite SATC episodes and carrie outfits??

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    serving me gaga, judas era wig teas.


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    Janelle Monae practically lives out of a suitcase. "There are months when I'm on a plane every day!" says the "We Are Young" singer, 26, who tours 100 days a year. So she keeps a perpetually packed Tumi at the ready.


    "I always carry my classic black-and-white tux and custom-made George Esquivel saddle shoes. They'd get lost if I check them. It's happened!" 

    Hair-Raising Scheme

    "I bring Miss Jessie's Baby Buttercreme and a comb to do my signature hairstyle on board ($9, And I never forget CoverGirl LashBlast mascara ($7,"

    World Is Her Oyster

    "A Pearl in the Storm by Tori Murden McClure is inspiring me lately."

    Just Plane Healthy

    "I take goldenseal, echinacea and cod liver oil when flying to boost my immune system."

    Sound Advice 

    "I listen to Prince on my iPad. And I use a Chords & Scales app to warm up before performing."

    Write Stuff

    "I keep a journal to jot down songs, poetry and thoughts on the plane."

    More Essentials:

    Evian Mineral Water Spray ($11,

    Olay Clean & Mild Make Up ($4.49,

    Covergirl Lipstick in Hot Passion ($7.99,

    Covergirl Queen Collection Bronzer in Natural Hue ($8.29,

    US Weekly.

    ONTD, what's in your bag?
    Also feel free to turn it into a beauty post tbqh

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    Embedded in Gaza City, Cooper has provided both military updates and snark, telling one woman to "spend less time tweeting about coconut flan and more time actually following the news."

    As missiles explode around him, Anderson Cooper launches some snark rockets of his own.

    The CNN anchor/correspondent is in Gaza to cover the armed conflict between Israel and Hamas and was shaken on camera by a massive explosion in his vicinity Monday. True to his iron-=man reputation, he pressed on with his broadcast, and continued his updates via Twitter. Just as any Israeli-Palestinian conflict creates sharp debate, his reporting drew critics online, and instead of ignoring them, he publicly lashed the detractors.

    In fact, it's still going on.

    Monday evening, a Twitterer named @RetireLeo, who claims to be a former Marine, tweeted, "Didn't Cooper admit he was gay, if so let's let the Palestians know and see what happens," to which Cooper replied, "‪ wow, tough words from an anon Internet troll. why not use your name and photo, coward? Have some more fritos and keep typing."

    Cooper made even more waves when he responded to @Pamela_Weiss, who asked him to "Report a fair story. Report facts. Why not talk about the rockets being fired FROM Gaza?!? #losingcredibility."

    His response: ".‪@Pamela_Weiss‬ perhaps spend less time tweeting about coconut flan and more time actually following the news."

    On Tuesday, he was greeted by a tweet from @Rabbi_Sykes, who said, "May just stop watching ‪#CNN‬. Now ‪@andersoncooper‬ almost apologizing for ‪#Hamas‬ dragging a dead "Spy" for ‪#Israel‬ & yelling God is great! Oy."

    Cooper's retort: ".‪@Rabbi_Sykes‬ excuse me, but how am I apologizing for Hamas by reporting them dragging a body through the streets? That is deeply offensive."

    Read all of Cooper's comebacks below:


    Mods the pic source is not hotlinked it's from my chrome screen capture program!

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    The highlights.

    Day 1: Mexico City, We Barely Made It!

    Rihanna's been on board for less than 15 minutes, and already everything is out of wack. She's inspected the plane, walking from nose to tail between cameras of all shapes and sizes, laughing, calling the experience some "presidential shit." Immediately after, she commandeers the PA system and insists everyone get "muthafuckin' crunk."

    At the moment, Rihanna is walking from seat to seat, pouring Ace of Spades champagne. It doesn't take long for her to find me, by which point she's already missing the cups altogether, creating and adding to a puddle between seats 39C and D. "There ya go!" she says, smiling.


    It's a crazy thing to try and explain. Over the course of seven days, Rihanna (and, really, some hard-working Def Jam handlers) will shuttle a plane filled with 200 writers, fans and hangers-on through seven countries, where she'll play seven shows. (It's the 7-7-7 tour; we and Rihanna are all sharing a Boeing 777.) It is a trip bursting with pampered hyperbole – MTV Cribs set in the sky, the likes of which most never see: five-star hotels, VIP passes, the dignity of keeping your belt on at airport security. There are supposedly 70 bottles of champagne on board.


    When in Mexico, Rihanna did as the Mexicans do. Getting ready for "Fresh Off the Runway," the intro track to her upcoming LP, she looked offstage. "Jennifer," she said, "I need my hat, boo." She held a beat before continuing, ". . . por favor." The crowd went nuts, just as they did with every mention of Mexico City (of which there seemed to be 777). They also particularly enjoyed the Soca interpolation that her backing band threw into the middle of "What's My Name," far more than the "Rack City"-type instrumental they'd included moments earlier, maybe because some West Indians made their way across the water and into the crowd.

    Rihanna, live and in concert, doesn't sing much. Her hits are so big she doesn't really need to, but – tellingly – she often puts the microphone by her crotch. (She relies heavily on her two slithering backup singers, who sometimes come in to push songs over the finish line. To her credit, she does do the brunt of the work on less-demanding songs: she belts "Wait Is Over" and giggles her way through "Take a Bow.") During "Cake," she pats her thighs, as if slapping cheese on them. Dressed in a Rock-n-Jock-style leather baseball jersey, micro-bra and biker shorts, Rihanna winds and wiggles; she'll stick her ass out and look around the backside, as if posing for a Coppertone ad. Somehow, she makes the Stanky Legg seem appealing, as she does during "Where Have You Been." An entire swath of the audience – several rows of people, every single one of them with cameras held high – moves as one while watching her, as if being swept away by water. It looks dangerous, even violent, though strangely beautiful: a mosh-pit in which all parties move in the same direction. I've never seen anything like it.

    Day 2: Psycho in Toronto


    Being awake for what feels like forever and following a schedule that is largely the same feels a lot like Groundhog Day. But with so many people from so many different countries all thrown together, we're constantly meeting new people, having new conversations. I mean, there's obviously opportunity for important cultural exchange when we're all just hanging out on the bus. To wit: while driving past downtown Toronto, some Canadians explain Tim Horton's to the Americans; the Americans explain Subway to the Brits. (A girl from Los Angeles says, "Subway is like a diet food here. You can lose weight eating that, if you eat it enough." Sure, why not.)

    A bunch of writer-friends and I walk into the venue and head up to the balcony, where we have a perfect view of the diehard Rihanna fans below. They're all standing still, as if they just heard a noise. DJ Congorock's opening set – progressive EDM thrown into a washing machine – appears to have zero effect on them. Following them, DJ Reflex gets much the same reaction: Meek Mill? No. House remix of Florence and the Machine? Nope. Even "N---as in Paris," the undeniable chin-nodder, only sees movement in three pockets of the audience. I look away, confused. Finally, people are screaming, excited about something: it's a 20-year-old Fatman Scoop song, the one that goes "If my train goes off the track, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up." The same reaction comes up intermittently for Cee-Lo's "Forget You," Damian Marley's "Welcome to Jamrock" and DJ Scream's "Let Me Clear My Throat," from 1996. I have no idea what the psychological profile is of a serial killer, but I imagine it's something like that of a Torontonian. (this section brought to you by my refusal to cut out canadian content.)

    The concert starts at 9:17, which is stunningly close to being on time for us. The lights come down; the crowd chants "Rih Rih! Rih Rih! Rih Rih!"– it's seemingly friendly and supportive, though it does conjure visions of Psycho. Rihanna, dressed in pants that bow and wave, high-steps her way out in nude heels. She seems so much more alive than last night; it's almost as if she's channeling Obama's second debate. (Was it the plane's altitude that caused her to be so tired? Or maybe it was the long hours waiting around? Did she drink too much of the champagne? Or maybe not enough?)

    Her voice climbs the scales up and then down during "Talk That Talk;" she performs something resembling a rain dance for "Unfaithful."But then she gets tired as "S&M" comes on – one wonders how someone who claims to last all night can only go for 20 minutes. But, hark: she downs a shot onstage, and much like Popeye, she immediately gets her strength back, and puts on a fairly solid set.

    Day 3: Tending Bar in Stockholm

    It’s been three days; I’ve seen Rihanna’s live show three times. It’s largely the same every night, though every so often, she’ll make a slight change in the lineup (add "Stay" in Stockholm, drop "Disturbia" for Toronto). Her banter remains the same, and I’ve started mouthing the words along with her as she introduces songs. (For example, when going into "What’s My Name," she recites the following: "Did someone say my name? It’s not na-na. It’s Rih-anna!") So one notices the little things: How she channels Michael Jackson’s "HEE-hee" ad-lib; how she claps her hands like she’s a flamenco dancer using a Shake Weight; how she dresses like a combination of Aaliyah and Lil’ Kim from 1996.

    While many went to bed, Rihanna stayed out until six in the morning, slinging drinks for her after-party guests from behind the bar. Some ticket-winning fans made it in and found Rihanna to be sweet: "I told her my life story," said one. (She also shared with Rih’s manager a growing frustration among the fans riding with the 777 Tour, that they feel unappreciated and underwhelmed by the experience.) Sweden’s pushiest came to rub shoulders and throw elbows, a good-looking but horrible-acting group of malcontents. Apparently, as I learned from a local girl I met, alcohol in Sweden is incredibly expensive so everyone goes full-throttle-drinking on Friday nights. Last night was Friday night. It was either being fed up by aggressive patrons, or the fact that the rare Stockholm sun was coming up, that led Rihanna to throw her bartending towel down. With a huge smile on her face, she screamed, "I quit!"

    Day 4: Hysteria in Paris

    The weekend before the 777 Tour began, while at Rihanna's listening party at New York's 40/40 Club, I had a conversation with an industry heavyweight who asked if I was excited for the trip – a quick tour of seven countries alongside one of the biggest pop stars in the world. I responded with a tempered yes – we agreed that it could go either way: "It'll be either the best or the worst." In a somewhat cruel twist of fate, this trip has been both of those things.

    Rihanna's performances have been solid, and – aside from her show in Paris, which weathered through tech problems – they've gotten steadily better as these nights have gone by. That first plane ride to Mexico City (when she walked around, sloshing champagne and cognac, cooing into the microphone about getting crunk) was for many a rare bit of access to a celebrity, a once-in-a-lifetime experience, a story to go home with. The hotels have all been incredible: Le Meridien in Paris, just steps from the Champs-Elysées; Stockholm's futuristic Radisson Blu the night before. We've been plied with gifts and bags of Rihanna-related products: bottles of her perfumes, an R-branded Moleskine, a Q-Tip sized conflict-free diamond, a pair of socks with Rihanna's face on them. Def Jam's ever-present staff has done its best to meet the needs of a too-large operation. The amount of money spent on this whole thing could sink a boat.

    Or, in this case, a Delta. It feels stupid to complain: we're being flown all around the world to see Rihanna perform in concert seven times, and given free tickets with balcony access. That probably sounds pretty good! But it's too much. Every concert is a re-run episode that we're forced to watch, each with diminishing returns. The only real difference is found within one of her most popular applause lines: "What up, Mexico City?""What up, Toronto?""What up, Stockholm?" The buses are new in each city, which is important since we don't do much outside of them. We got to see Stockholm and Paris for an hour before we had to go to the venue; we never saw any of Toronto or Mexico City. There's no time to see the sights when you're sitting in parking lots, waiting for hours. As it is, the only proof we have of going to these cities are the adhesive strips wrapped around our luggage. A documentary crew has been wandering the aisles for many of our plane rides, but there's simply nothing to capture on camera. Their most popular shot? People sleeping.

    We haven't seen Rihanna offstage since the first day, unless you count her popping up at baggage claim for a few moments on the morning of the second; she also had after-parties in Stockholm and Paris, both times showing up mere hours before wake-up call. As for last night's mega-party at Paris' VIP Room, where she was joined by Diddy, Cassie, Pharrell, Akon, Omarion and Craig David, the Twitter account for MSN's Canadian website said, "Putting off sleeping and editing to try and get a word with Rihanna, Diddy or Akon who are 2 feet away but blocked by security." (It was originally going to be just us, those who were flying with the tour. Def Jam was surprised to see it turn into a zoo. There was a hubbub among the radio winners this morning, after one of the Swedes got elbowed in the face by Diddy's bodyguard, according to several eye-witnesses.) The hotels are beautiful, but we're only sleeping two or three hours in them – four, tops. From journalists to fans to label reps to airline staff, the general feeling is one of mild depression-cum-hysteria.

    It was a cunning idea to invite 200 journalists to cover this event, because – if it goes well – that's seven straight days of wall-to-wall positive coverage by 150 outlets. But when it doesn't work, it's a big risk. After four and a half days, it's somewhere between a wasted opportunity and living in Rihanna jail. If this whole thing is Rihanna's idea, as she so claims, then you'd think she'd put in the effort to make it work: she could get on the microphone, or do something to make us feel like she's on the same plane as us, to differentiate one day from another.

    The saying says, "Go big or go home." At this point in the trip, it's not really a close call.

    Day 5: Escape From Berlin

    Much has been made of the conditions on the Rihanna plane, which have been as grim as we say, our coping tactics way funnier than the lazy jokes people make at our expense. (No, we didn't expect to hang out with Rihanna and gossip about Drake. We simply felt there should be a reason for us being on this plane with her and seeing these seven shows, and there apparently is none. Also, shouts to those who think their experience would be at all different from that of the 200-plus people who are voicing their frustration. You're wrong, but shouts to you.) The fact is, as this whole thing has spun out of control, many of us – the journalists looking for something or anything to do, the fans who skipped out on their jobs for a week because they were promised something they never got, the label reps doing their damnedest to just get us to the next city – have put a bright face on a bad situation. This has been our Vietnam – when this is over, we'll never talk about it again. (lol, I can't.)

    What happened last night (Note: the "mutiny" and streaking on the plane. didn't come out of nowhere. We've all been awake for nearly a week, taking disco naps (voluntarily and not) when gravity becomes too much. In a grand tradition stretching back five days, we stepped off the bus to Berlin hours later than expected, though far earlier than Rihanna. We haven't seen the sun since leaving Los Angeles last Tuesday. So, of course it was dark. Of course it was cold, and of course a giant balloon outside of the venue said – in 20-foot lettering – "DIE," a poor omen if there ever were one. Rihanna walked out onstage around 11:30 p.m (4 hours later that appointed time; two hours later than her standard lateness.).; the Berliners, who packed themselves into this sweatbox for hours just for the chance to see her, booed. She forgot most of the lyrics to the first verse of "Don't Stop the Music,"again. I decided to stop taking notes because I already saw this exact show in another city.

    It all started when one of the flight attendants stayed in the front of the cabin too long before take-off, sprinting the entire length of the plane as the ground left us, a blur of blue and red. She made it safely to her seat, slamming into the back wall. The fans started clapping; then everyone else joined in. Then the four guys that make up the team from FuseTV began chanting "B-Roll! B-Roll! B-Roll!", a semi-inside joke about the camera crews constantly walking up and down the aisles and filming people looking into space. The plane still hadn't leveled off when an Australian shock-jock radio host ran through the entire plane naked, covering up his front end while he loop-de-looped each section. We all stood up like we were doing the Wave. More chants: "Rih Rih! Rih Rih!" turned into "Save our jobs! Save our jobs!" which evolved into "Interview!" and then "Just one quote!" because of a lack of bargaining power. People sang songs; the Australian guy thankfully didn't break out his harmonica or his bum-n-balls again. Def Jam execs initally emerged from the very front of the plane, eyes as wide as their mouths, with one of them mouthing, "What the fuck?" No one had any clue, but it felt great: some of us had forgotten what genuine smiles felt like. (Even Steve Bartels, the president of Island Def Jam, seemed to be having a good time, chatting and pouring up cognac while sitting on an armrest. This was his first 777 experience.)

    All of the tension that had built up seemed to dissipate; I now can't wait to see this documentary that I'd been dreading. Last night wasn't a mutiny so much as a much-needed visit to the chiropractor; we were all drunk on laughter (and empty bottles of wine) at 5 a.m. Word swept through that Rihanna was going to say something, to address everyone and thank us all for braving this cruel social experiment. Of course she didn't, which only fed the very-loud and never-ending rumors that she's not on this plane at all. In fact, she was, but she probably never will be again. And that's fine: we seem to be having more fun without her.

    Day 6: In-Flight Surprises After London

    This morning was another long one. We left our London hotel at 3 a.m., getting to the airport an hour later. As these things go, we finally took off a little before 11. For those eight hours, with darkened eyes and pallid faces, we smiled. We re-enacted Rihanna's dance moves: an MTV cameraman doing the best rendition of her jelly-leg routine from "Cockiness (Love It)," Def Jam's Gabe Tesoriero surprising us all with his version of her, uh, lap-patting "Birthday Cake."We recited her onstage banter word for word, tightening her script until it broke: the introduction to "What's My Name?" goes, as Rihanna said in just about every city, "My name isn't oh-na-na. It's Rihanna!" Someone started a rumor that one of the passengers was a child actor from Jurassic Park. Since we hadn't seen her on the plane in days, an on-air personality from Canada's MuchMusic printed up a missing poster that depicted Rihanna, looking for answers while walking up and down the aisle. A writer fell asleep while typing, his entire screen filled with a series of j's and k's. Twenty people surrounded him and laughed.

    A day earlier, the entirety of the plane had risen up as one, journalists starting jokey chants of "Save our jobs!" and "Just one quote!" (Fans, kept to the back section of the plane, joined in with a spoofed-up version of one of her songs: "Where have you been?/ Cause I never see you out/ Are you hiding from me/ On our flight?") It was all an effort to lure Rihanna out of her private quarters, to be able to write about something other than the fact that we all had nothing to write about. She never came out, and the bad press continued. (She ended her London show by screaming, "Haters are liars!" It's something she's said often, but never before on this trip. It seemed directed at the journalists that she herself had invited.)

    Today, an hour before landing in Newark, we were alerted to "get our cameras ready" for "a special performance." The world waited in wonder. Soon after, Nuno Bettencourt (her guitarist, one of the members of the Eighties band Extreme) came out. Would Rihanna join him? No. Instead, we listened with jaws slack as he, Rihanna's bassist and DJ Reflex sang hits of yesteryear: Lenny Kravitz's "Fly Away," a song by Journey, another by Bon Jovi. It was a lovely gesture – these guys did nothing wrong, except pretend to know the lyrics – but why wouldn't Rihanna at least show her face, to acknowledge our presence (or even hers)?

    The landing gear descended. Everyone was told to return to their seat; I had never left mine. And then a strange figure darkened the door of first class. She walked out with shades on, making her way down the aisle. There was less enthusiasm from her, less from us; we weren't the same people we were six days ago, when we first boarded the plane. No champagne showers; many of us were hungry and tired, a huddled and disinterested mass. It was almost like Rihanna didn't (or doesn't) know of anything beyond her seat: with a smile that curled up and out, she said, "I would fuckin' do this again!" She continued on this too-little-too-late tour, noting that if she hadn't had to take care of her voice, she would have acted differently with us. "Usually I go, go and go. And this time I had to sleep," she continued. "Usually I would be back here partying my balls off for ya'll but I really had to pay attention and take care of my health because I'm on the plane all the time."She'd been out all night in at least three cities, buying lingerie in Paris, hanging out with Brooklyn Decker in Toronto. But she never had three minutes to see us.

    The pilot once again asked everyone to sit; instead, a gaggle of photographers and writers and fans smothered her with bodies and questions. "What surprises are you bringing to your show tonight?""What was your favorite city of the tour?""When are you next playing Ireland?" (Her first answer was, "Oh man, tonight is gonna be the shit." While I didn't hear the answer to the others, I'm sure they were equally illuminating.) A writer wondered if we would all die, what with the entire mass of passengers rushing up to the front of the plane, and an annoyed flight attendant said that – while the plane was too big for that to happen – people needed to sit down or else we'd need to divert landing. We had three minutes to land, and people were still standing on seats for some reason. Rihanna finally went back to her section, saying that people were "acting bad." With just moments to spare, the last of the reckless had sat down, sparing us all a grand jury hearing.

    With just moments to spare, people sat down in their seats. It made me realize why no one would ever get access to her: because many of these supposed professionals weren't mature enough to treat her like a person, and she most certainly wasn't interested in treating any of us like people either.

    As we deplaned, the fresh air of Newark's airport filling our faces, a flight attendant said, "You're free!" Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.

    Source 123456

    And the saga, at last, is over. I cannot wait to see all the stories people write for their various magazines, frankly-- happy first #1 album, Rihanna!

    FYI, this is the tl;dr version at mod request-- but the full blog entries are well worth reading! FYI what's included makes this look less like a rush to get to trashing her, because most of what I cut was the positive/boring stuff.

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    One Direction hunk Zayn Malik and Little Mix beauty Perrie Edwards have been dating for quite a while now and it appears that Zayn is completely smitten with PerriePerrie admitted that she finds Zayn very sweet and trusts him, despite rumours about his alleged cheating antics.

    Perrie explained, “Yeah [he’s sweet], but everyone thinks he’s a proper bad boy.” Meanwhile, her Little Mix bandmate Jesy Nelson claimed that Zayn was extremely smitten with Perrie and was nothing like the bad boy image he gets portrayed as.

    She added, “Literally, Zayn’s the most smitten boy I’ve ever seen. She’s got him under the thumb – he’s like a little lovesick puppy around her. He’s all over her!”

    Edwards then continued, “He did say from day one that things would come out in the press. But if you don’t have trust in someone there’s no point in being together at all. You need to trust each other 100 percent, otherwise it won’t work. If you want to be with each other that much, you’ve got to make it work.”

    One Direction are currently enjoying double UK success, as they top both the singles and the albums chart.


    Can't blame him for feeling that way about Queen Perrie tbh

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    Leonardo DiCaprio has been trying to get a Twilight Zone movie up and running for years now, only for a succession of directors to drop out of the production.

    DiCaprio’s production company put the project into development back in 2007, with the script having been written and rewritten several times over the ensuing years. It looked as though Matt Reeves was set to direct as recently as last year, only for him to drop out shortly after.

    Now, the first hint of the movie’s plot has been released online, with time travel seemingly at the heart of the story.

    Apparently, the film follows, “a test pilot who winds up breaking the speed of light; when he puts down his craft, he discovers that he’s landed a bit late for supper - 96 years late.”

    Not a huge amount to go on then, although it’s nice to see two of the television series’ favourite themes (namely space and time travel) sitting at the heart of the movie. Warner is currently looking for a new director to helm the project, so hopefully it will see the light of day in the not too distant future…


    Leo if you get this done I will never laugh at jokes aimed at you again. Favorite Twilight Zone episodes ONTD?

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    Question: What kind of dumbass packs a freaking grenade in his carry-on ... and accidentally tries to take it onto a plane? Answer: Flaming Lips singer Wayne Coyne. And he shut down an Oklahoma City airport in the process.

    The grenade wasn't live -- thankfully -- but according to the police report, Coyne still accidentally packed it in his bag on November 10th and triggered an alarm at the TSA checkpoint at Will Rogers airport ... like a dumbass.

    Needless to say, TSA freaked ... and shut down the terminal while officers frantically tried to figure out how to handle the situation.

    nd how's this for hilarious -- according to the police report, the TSA ran around like a chicken with its head cut off ... because it didn't have any "bomb guys" on duty. (Editor's note: isn't that the whole point of TSA?)

    According to reports, Coyne was flying to LAX to catch a preview of the new Flaming Lips musical "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" -- and told police he was given the dead grenade at a party as a joke.

    Shocker, the grenade reportedly resulted in several missed flights ... and lots of wasted money -- but once TSA determined it was harmless, they let Coyne go.

    Coyne tweeted following the incident to make up for the SNAFU, writing, "Sorry Sorry Sorry!! Everyone that was inconvenienced by my grenade at OKC airport."


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    © Fox / Ray Mickshaw

    SOURCE Interscope Records

    SANTA MONICA, Calif., Nov. 21, 2012 /PRNewswire/ -- Multi-platinum producer and songwriter will release the video for the new single, entitled "Scream & Shout," featuring Britney Spears, on Wednesday, November 28th. The video will premiere on The X Factor which airs on FOX 8:00-10:00 PM ET live/PT tape-delayed.

    The video, directed by Ben Mor, will be available for viewing on VEVO immediately following the west coast broadcast.

    "Scream &Shout," produced by Lazy Jay was released to radio on Monday, November 19th and is currently available digitally.

    "To be able to work with Britney again was amazing. Working with an artist like Britney is the reason I love making music. She loves music as much as I do. And I am so proud of this new song 'Scream & Shout.' This is the most exciting song I've worked on in a long time," said

    "There are few people on the planet who inspire me like does," said Britney. "I couldn't be more excited to work with him again. I can't wait for people to hear the song and see the video."

    A seven-time Grammy Award-winner, is known not only for his work with The Black Eyed Peas, who have sold 31 million albums and 58 million singles worldwide, but also for his work with some of the entertainment industry's biggest names, including Michael Jackson, Rihanna, Usher, Nicki Minaj, Britney Spears, David Guetta, and film composer Hans Zimmer. Recognized and honored by numerous industry organizations, is the recipient of multiple Grammy Awards, a Latin Grammy Award, an Emmy Award, two NAACP Image Awards, a VH1 Do Something Award, the BMI President's Award and a 2008 Webby Award.

    Multi-platinum, Grammy Award-winning worldwide pop icon Britney Spears is one of the most successful and celebrated entertainers in pop history. Her musical career boasts nearly 100 million albums sold worldwide, five No.1 debut albums and 24 Top 40 songs. Britney's achievements include three MTV Video Music Awards for Video of the Year, Best Female Video and Best Pop Video for "Piece of Me," and in 2011 she was honored with MTV's Video Vanguard Award, the network's lifetime achievement award given to musicians whose talent has had a profound effect on pop culture. Britney is Billboard's Best-selling Female Artist of the Decade (1998-2008), and in 2003, she received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, becoming one of the youngest honorees ever.


    Britney on having her own reality show and the X Factor contestants


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    Meet Me Halfway video was alright, I guess. Also, Scream & Shout is finally on iTunes!

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    brit and 1d

    One Direction have quite the celebrity following these days, with Katy Perry, Taylor Swift *cough* and even Michelle Obama revealing that they are fans of the boys.

    The latest star to jump on the 1D train is Britney Spears - who was apparently so impressed with their performance on The X Factor USA this month, that she's asked them to sing at her WEDDING.

    Oh yes, we can totally see the boys serenading Britterz with a rendition of What Makes You Beautiful as she struts up the aisle.

    An insider told heat magazine: "Britney loved 1D on The X Factor USA and told them backstage that she's love them to sing at her wedding.

    "They agreed, but said it would depend on their schedule. She's told Simon Cowell she's serious and he must make it happen."

    Britney also spoke out about her love for 1D, saying: "They swooned me, I loved them. They were amazing."

    What with this and the boys' invitation to perform at The White House, they're building up quite the line in private gigs.


    Hmm, shall we all pool our savings and host our own exclusive concert? So far, we've got about £2.69 and a voucher for half a chicken at Nando's. Which should be enough to persuade Niall Horan, at least.

    What do you make of Britney's request?

    their performance of little things was pretty impressive, i can see why she WOULD


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    - Tries to kiss Letterman
    - Talks how he got into the business
    - Talks 'Red Dawn', training, and why it took so long to come to theaters
    - Talks about his genius younger brother, Connor.
    - Talks crazy fans that found his house on Christmas
    - Talks Catching Fire filming and Jennifer Lawrence


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    Image and video hosting by TinyPic

    After much consideration and soul-searching, Michael and I have arrived at the decision to divorce due to “Irreconcilable Differences.”

    Divorce is terribly sad, painful and incomprehensible for children. It is not something we have decided lightly.

    The hands-on style of parenting we practice played no role in the changes that led to this decision; relationships are complicated no matter what style of parenting you choose.

    The main priority for us now is to make the transition to two loving homes as smooth and painless as possible. Our sons deserve parents committed to their growth and health and that’s what we are focusing on. Our privacy has always been important and is even more so now, and we thank you in advance for respecting it as we negotiate this new terrain.

    We will be ok.


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    Image and video hosting by TinyPic

    Community and Chevy Chase are officially parting ways.

    TVLine has confirmed that Chase and producers have come to a mutual agreement to have the comedy vet depart to cult NBC comedy effective immediately. Our sister site Deadline first reported the news.

    Chase’s sudden ouster means that he will not appear in one or two of Community‘s final Season 4 episodes, which have yet to be shot.


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    First American Chopper. Now Dirty Jobs. Another veteran Discovery Channel series is coming to an end.

    “A few weeks ago, I was officially informed that Dirty Jobs had entered into a new phase,” Dirty Jobs host Mike Rowe wrote in a blog post. “One I like to call, ‘permanent hiatus.’ Or in the more popular industry vernacular, canceled … Dirty Jobs is a very personal show, and it’s difficult for me to imagine a future that does not involve exploding toilets, venomous snakes, misadventures in animal husbandry, and feces from every species.”
    Rowe, who’s been hosting the series since 2003, goes on to generously thank his crew, the network, the show’s participants and its fans. “I can’t say that Dirty Jobs never jumped the shark (since I literally leaped over one in season two), but I’m proud to say it’s still the same hatchet,” Rowe wrote. “The last episode looked pretty much like the first. We didn’t become something we weren’t. We never shared the sewer with Paris Hilton, and we never invited you to ‘tune in next week for a very special Dirty Jobs.’ We stuck to the mission statement. We stayed small. We worked hard. And we had a hell of a good time. It was, as they say, a very good run.”
    Though Dirty Jobs was once a ratings sensation for the network, the show’s numbers have been on a downward trend in recent years. Recently, Rowe made headlines by stumping for Mitt Romney on the campaign trail (if only the Republican won White House, he might have been able to throw the host a new gig). At least Rowe will still maintain a presence on Discovery Channel as the narrator of Deadliest Catch.
    The Dirty Jobs axing marks the second major reality franchise that’s been cancelled by Discovery in the last couple weeks. As first reported on, Chopper will end its 10-year run with its Dec. 11 finale.

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    Yay Sunday!


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    click on the screencap to watch the bts video/interview

    looking cute with no make up on @ 'the heiress' broadway revival opening night


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