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Oh No They Didn't! - LiveJournal.com

older | 1 | .... | 679 | 680 | (Page 681) | 682 | 683 | .... | 4443 | newer

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    Like beautiful mother, like adorable daughter.

    In the spitting-image pic Kim Kardashian posted to Instagram, North West's pinchable chubby cheeks mirror those on darling baby face of her mom.

    And the eye-catching similarities don't stop there.

    The Kimmie-Nori's striking resemblance starts at their pretty little widow's peaks, flows to the pair's picture-perfect eyebrows highlighting their big brown eyes, hits their button noses and extends down to their kissable matching chins.

    Snapped in the early '80s, the throwback photo shows both Kim and Kourtney Kardashian in the arms of Sesame Street's Big Bird with the eldest sister propping up the feathered one's beak.



    Source

    Do you look like your mom or your dad? Post bb pics

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    Did you watch tonights episode? I think it was the best one so far!

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  • 05/11/14--22:45: Venus X vs Rihanna pt. 2
  • Screen Shot 2014-05-12 at 1.06.03 AM


    Screen Shot 2014-05-12 at 1.06.16 AM
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    The article she's linking is here.

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    Harry Styles' One Direction bandmates mock his ''girlie'' diet.

    The 20-year-old hunk is on the 'Where We Are' tour alongside Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan and Liam Payne who find his health kick ''funny'' and are placing bets on when he'll get sick of green tea and sushi.

    A source told The Daily Star newspaper: ''Alongside the normal menus, Harry has put in his own special request of one sushi meal and five cups of green tea a day.

    ''His pal Nick Grimshaw initially got him into it.

    ''But the other boys are now betting money on when he'll crack.

    ''They want none of the sushi and green tea, and find it funny he's asking their chefs to prepare what they consider girlie food.''

    1D all eat together and to maintain some sort of routine they use the same tablecloth and napkins.

    The source added: ''They all eat together at the same table - which has the same powder blue and white spotty tablecloth and napkins in every city.

    ''It helps give them a sense of routine and homeliness.''

    One Direction ended the South American leg of their tour on May 11 in Brazil and are set to take to the stage in Dublin on May 23 as they hit Europe.


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    Haylie posted this picture on Instagram:
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    Spending Mother's Day w my mama and Luca's mama @hilaryduff


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    Actress Hilary Duff and estranged husband Mike Comrie out shopping in Malibu, California on May 10, 2014. Hilary says she gets questioned all the time about them getting back together since their are always seen together. She states that they are really good friends and still love each other but as they work things out in their lives they like to hang out.

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    Singer and actress Hilary Duff spotted out running some errands in West Hollywood, California on May 12, 2014.
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    rs_1024x759-140512122519-rs_1024x759-140417151007-1024.kristen.rob.mh.052312

    Deep breaths, Twi-Hards, Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart are both heading to the 2014 Cannes Film Festival, which kicks off this Thursday.

    But does this mean there's going going to be a Robsten reunion in France?! Sadly, it does not, because as a source tells E! News, the exes "won't be there at the same time."

    Rob, 27, has two movies premiering at Cannes this year: The Rover, on May 18, and Maps to the Stars, on May 19. Kristen, 24, stars in Clouds of Sils Maria, which premieres May 23, but she won't be arriving early just to take in the sights: She'll be busy shooting American Ultra!

    Still, though, if Kristen and Rob had crossed paths in Cannes, they most likely would've been civil. Last fall a source told E! News the Twilight co-stars and former real-life loves did have "lots of animosity [between them] after the split," but have since "moved on and gradually gotten over it."

    Don't get ahead of yourselves, though! An insider also said at the time that while the couple formerly known as Robsten "are cordial now" with each other, their friends "honestly believe they will not get back together."

    And it looks like those pals have been right so far.

    source

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    Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling lashed out at Magic Johnson during a CNN interview broadcast Monday night, alluding to the NBA’s great’s HIV-positive diagnosis and saying, “I don’t think he’s a good example for the children of Los Angeles.”



    Sterling’s comments came as he addressed racial remarks he made that prompted the NBA to ban him for life. In a recording released by TMZ two weeks ago, Sterling tells a female friend, V. Stiviano, not to associate with black people, including Johnson.



    "What kind of guy goes to every city, has sex with every girl, then catches” HIV, Sterling told Anderson Cooper. “I think he should be ashamed of himself.”

    Sterling also questioned whether Johnson has made a positive contribution to the African American community in Los Angeles. He then pointed to his own charitable work.

    “Jews, when they get successful, they will help their people,” he said.

    At one point Cooper asked if he apologized to Johnson.

    "If I said anything wrong, I'm sorry," Sterling responded. "He's a good person. I mean, what am I going to say? Has he done everything he can do to help minorities? I don't think so. But I'll say it, he's great. But I don't think he's a good example for the children of Los Angeles."


    Sterling apologized for what he said on the tape.

    "When I listen to that tape, I don't even know how I can say words like that.... I don't know why the girl had me say those things," he said. "I was baited ... I mean, that's not the way I talk. I don't talk about people for one thing, ever. I talk about ideas and other things. I don't talk about people."


    At the time the tape was released, Stiviano and Sterling's wife, Shelly, were locked in a legal battle, with Shelly demanding that Stiviano give back cars and a $1.8-million condo that Donald Sterling had allegedly given her.

    Sterling on Sunday also apologized for his comments.

    "I'm a good member who made a mistake and I'm apologizing and I'm asking for forgiveness," he said on CNN. "Am I entitled to one mistake, am I after 35 years? I mean, I love my league, I love my partners. Am I entitled to one mistake? It's a terrible mistake, and I'll never do it again (publicly)."

    He added: "I'm not a racist. I made a terrible mistake."

    Excerpts of the CNN interview, which will be broadcast Monday, were released hours after Shelly Sterling spoke with ABC's Barbara Walters.

    Shelly Sterling said she may eventually divorce Donald Sterling and will fight efforts to force her to sell her share of the Clippers.

    In the ABC interview, Shelly Sterling also suggested that Donald Sterling was suffering from dementia, which she said could explain the comments caught on tape.

    "I was shocked by what he said," Shelly Sterling told Walters. "But I don't know why I should be punished for what his actions were."

    The NBA responded to the recordings by banning Donald Sterling for life and saying it would seek to force him to sell the team. But Shelly Sterling said she sees the Clippers as part of her family legacy.

    "I'm wondering if a wife of one of the owners, and there's 30 owners, did something like that, said those racial slurs, would they oust the husband? Or would they leave the husband in?" she said.


    Never forget:

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    England are to have the slogan "The dream of one team, the heartbeat of millions!!" on the side of their World Cup coach in Brazil - that is the team bus, not Roy Hodgson.

    Fifa has revealed the results of a competition it ran to provide a slogan for each of the 32 vehicles and while England's is hardly the call to arms that will be on the side of Japan's people carrier – "Samurai, the time has come to fight!" – it is at least less underwhelming than, for instance, Australia's ("Socceroos: hopping our way into history!"), or indeed Chile ("Chi Chi Chi!, Le Le Le! Go Chile").

    Australia: Socceroos: hopping our way into history!
    Brazil: Brace yourselves! The 6th is coming! (PREPAREM-SE! O HEXA ESTÁ CHEGANDO!)
    England: The dream of one team, the heartbeat of millions!!
    France: Impossible is not a French word (IMPOSSIBLE N'EST PAS FRANCAIS)
    Japan: Samurai, the time has come to fight! (サムライよ!! 戦いの時はきた!!)

    Mexico: Always united, always aztecas (SIEMPRE UNIDOS… ¡SIEMPRE AZTECAS!)
    Netherlands: Real men wear orange (Echte mannen dragen oranje)
    Russia: No one can catch us (НАС НЕ ДОГОНЯТ!!!)
    Spain: Inside our hearts, the passion of a champion (EN NUESTRO CORAZÓN, LA PASIÓN DE UN CAMPEÓN)
    USA: United by team, driven by passion

    Source + all 32 slogans at FIFA

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    When Sweden were eliminated by Portugal in the UEFA World Cup qualification playoffs, a bitter Zlatan Ibrahimovic said, "One thing is for sure, a World Cup without me is nothing to watch." But now Brazlian footballers and celebrities are banding together to try and convince Zlatan to do just that.

    Dani Alves, Ronaldo, Anderson Silva and many others all took part in a video plea to Zlatan, pleading for him to attend the first match of the World Cup between Brazil and Croatia in Sao Paulo. The video also includes a call to action, asking fans to hound Zlatan's social media accounts in order to get him to make the trip.

    It's unclear why they're all so concerned about whether Zlatan watches the World Cup or not, but they say they have a ticket to that first match waiting for him. Perhaps this is all an elaborate plan to disguise him as a Brazilian and have him play for the host nation to ensure their success.

    source

    world cup post

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    The NFL Draft was this past weekend and fans everywhere watched as their teams drafted players that will become the stars of tomorrow.

    But an NBA star of today is less than happy with his favorite team for passing on someone he considers to be a friend, as LeBron James was none too pleased with Jerry Jones and the Dallas Cowboys for passing on Johnny Manziel in the first round of the draft.

    Tom Haberstroh: Shane Battier was with LeBron in the training room last night when the Cowboys passed on Johnny Manziel: "Oh, it was ugly."

    Rachel Nichols: Cowboys fan LeBron James on Johnny Manziel: "I was watching in the back and hoping they took him, but..."

    LeBron was seen after the draft in a Manziel Cleveland Browns uniform and he has been a supporter of Manziel’s since the quarterback made it big and started to yield criticism. The only criticism LeBron has is being directed at the Cowboys for passing on Manziel this past weekend.



    AllUCanHeat

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    Kendall Jenner and Hailey Baldwin wore identical leopard bikinis for a supercute selfie posted to Instagram Sunday. "matching?" the 18-year-old Keeping Up With the Kardashians star captioned the shot, adding sarcastically, "nooooo."
    Hailey, also 18, Instagrammed a similar snap, echoing Kendall by writing, "No we're not in matching bikinis why would you even ask?"
    But trying to trick us out with those matchy-matchy bikinis wasn't all these besties were up to Sunday! Hailey Instagrammed a video of her BFF and two other gal pals dancing to 5SOS's "What I Like About You."







    Kendall Jenner and Hailey Baldwin wore identical leopard bikinis for a supercute selfie posted to Instagram Sunday. "matching?" the 18-year-old Keeping Up With the Kardashians star captioned the shot, adding sarcastically, "nooooo."
    Hailey, also 18, Instagrammed a similar snap, echoing Kendall by writing, "No we're not in matching bikinis why would you even ask?"
    But trying to trick us out with those matchy-matchy bikinis wasn't all these besties were up to Sunday! Hailey Instagrammed a video of her BFF and two other gal pals dancing to Poison's "What I Like About You."

    Kendall will soon take a break from teen fun to serve as a bridesmaid in big sister Kim Kardashian's wedding to Kanye West! Yep, North West's mama has plenty of BFFs, too, who could serve in his bridal party, but E! News has confirmed Kim is keeping it close with only Kendall, Kylie, Khloé and Kourtney by her side.


    source

    why does the baldwin look like she's gone through as much plastic surgery as joan rivers

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    Most fans know by now that Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher will be reprising their roles from the original Star Wars trilogy in Star Wars Episode VII. What we don’t know is how big of a role they will play. Previous rumors suggested that director J.J. Abrams wanted to cut down on how big of a role Luke, Leia and Han would play in order to put the spotlight firmly on the new characters. However, a rumor being reported by Entertainment Weekly suggests that Han Solo’s role will be significantly larger than that of Luke and Leia.

    From the report: “Even more significant, Han Solo won’t just be a walk-on. While Hamill and Fisher will boast strong supporting parts, Ford will join three of the young stars as one of the leads in the story, according to several sources close to the film. Bonus points to anyone who gets to say to him, “She’s fast enough for you, old man.”

    So Han Solo gets to have one last adventure while Luke and Leia stay at home? An interesting turn if true. There are lots of potential plots that could result in an increased role for Han and less of a role for Luke and Leia: perhaps one or both or captured and Han has to lead the younglings on a rescue mission, for example. It’s all speculation for now, but if rumors of a Han Solo prequel spinoff are true, it would make sense for the studio to want to put him in the spotlight as well.



    A new rumor being reported by Jedi News suggests that Adam Driver will be playing the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa in Star Wars Episode VII.

    This rumor would seem to clash with previous reports that Driver would be playing the villain in the movie, with his character being compared to Darth Vader. The report explains that Driver will be doing both, as his character is seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. The main plot of the film will be the other characters’ attempt to rescue Driver’s character. Very Darth Vader like, indeed.

    This may also explain a bit about why Han Solo is rumored to be in more of lead role in Episode VII than the other returning cast members from the original cast. If his son is in danger, it’s hard to imagine Han Solo not leading the rescue team himself, and they’d be hard-pressed to find a better pilot. The fact that Han is not force sensitive, where Luke and Leia are, may also have to do with why his friends are left behind.

    We reiterate that this is just a rumor at this time, and not officially confirmed.

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    sam12n-7-web
    The main squeeze of openly gay NFL player Michael Sam comes from a family of Midwest mobsters.
    Vito Cammisano, the hunky 23-year-old former collegiate swimmer, is the grandson of the late Mafia boss William (Willie the Rat) Cammisano. His father, Gerlarmo (Jerry) Cammisano, 60, followed in the family’s shady business and ended up doing 14 months in prison for running a Kansas City-based gambling ring, according to records. But on Saturday the Cammisano name became part of a feel-good sports story of the year when Sam became the first openly gay player drafted by an NFL team as Vito proudly stood at his side.

    After breaking down in tears when he got the news that his dreams were realized, Sam hugged and kissed Cammisano on the lips as ESPN’s cameras were rolling. “Have a great week and Go Rams!” Vito Cammisano wrote in an email to the Daily News Monday, referring all questions to Sam’s agent Joe Barkett. There is no evidence that Cammisano has ever been involved with the Civella crime family of Kansas City like his grandfather.
    '

    mob-graphic

    Here's a look at the Cammisano family's mafia members. By all reports, he’s a stand-up guy. A 2013 graduate of the University Missouri with a degree in communications, Cammisino swam competitively for Mizzou from 2009 to 2012. His aunt, Cathy Nigro, told The News, “He’s been a pleasant, pleasant boy all his life.” But his grandfather and father chose a far different road. Willie the Rat Cammisano was the boss of the Civella crime family until his death 1995. In 1980, he made headlines for refusing to answer a Senate committee’s questions about mob crimes in Kansas City, Mo. During the 1980 Senate hearing, Fred Harvey Bonadonna, whose father was whacked by the mob, testified about overhearing his dad and William the Rat talk about murder. “I knew both from my father and others that Willie was called Willie the Rat because he killed people and stuck them in the sewers so the rats could eat them,” Bonadonna told the committee. “He doesn’t like the name. I doubt that anybody ever called him that to his face.”

    Bondonna went into the government witness protection program after testifying against Willie the Rat in an 1978 extortion case.Vito Cammisano’s dad pleaded guilty in 2011 to federal charges he ran a $3.5 million illegal sports betting ring. Jerry Cammisano was sentenced to 14 months in prison and ordered to forfeit $201,137, according to records.Meanwhile, Sam’s leap to the NFL was hailed by President Obama major sports breakthrough and praised by LGBT groups.But Miami Dolphins player Don Jones was paying the price for calling the kiss between Sam and Cammisano “horrible” on Twitter.The Dolphins fined and banned defensive back from team activities until he undergoes sensitivity training. Jones, 23, released a statement apologizing to Sam and the Dolphins for “the inappropriate comments that I made” on social media.


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    Justin Bieber took his mom to the Clippers game and dinner yesterday to celebrate Mother's Day...












    more repetitive pics at the source (tw for marky mark and floyd mayweather)

    also, social media posts by both of them:



    Enjoying Clippers game w my favorite man for Mother's Day. Love you @justinbieber xoxo



    Took my mom to the game.. She's more focussed on the food :p

    he also posted a throw back picture:



    justinbieber: Happy mothers day mama and all the other Amazing mothers out there :) #throwback

    and finally a post dedicated to his mom:



    justinbieber: My mom has taught me how to love, forgive and believe. She is my everything ♛

    both are on his ig


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    Michael Alig’s First Week of Freedom, after 17 Years of Prison



    “This hug is for your mother,” I whispered embracing Michael Alig, the former “king of the club kids” after he emerged from a prison truck at the entrance to Mid-State Correctional Facility, in Marcy, New York, last Monday. “I can’t believe this is really happening!” He was finally being released, after serving 17 years for manslaughter, for the death and dismemberment of Andre “Angel” Melendez, after a drug-fueled argument one night in 1996. Alig, now 48, smiled and blinked in the sunlight.
    Suddenly: “Michael!” Astro and Scotto, two ex–club kids, nudged me aside, while a third guy videotaped and snapped photos of the confused-looking Alig.
    “Hi!” exclaimed Astro. “Oh, and I see you already have a boyfriend! Did you [sleep with] him in prison?” Alig looked mortified. Standing behind him was a cute, straight 26-year-old man who was also being freed. He and Michael had bonded that morning, after the prisoner said, “I think someone famous is getting out today—they said there’s a van full of press outside.” Michael ended up inviting him along for our four-hour journey back to Manhattan. The guy’s name was Mike, “but his Facebook name is Rico Suave!” Alig told me, delighted.
    As we walked to our van, Alig whispered: “Why are they here?” He claimed hadn’t heard from either Astro or Scotto in more than a decade. I just shook my head.
    Alig’s prison release was originally going to be somewhat low-key: I’d pick him up in a Zipcar, we’d get dinner in NYC with some of his loved ones, and then head up to his old roommate Ernie Glam’s apartment in the Bronx, where Alig would be moving. But then the Hollywood production company World of Wonder apparently wanted to fly in James St. James, writer of the book Disco Bloodbath, basis for the movie Party Monster (both about Alig) from L.A., for a filmed, multi-day reunion; Ramon Fernandez, director of the upcoming documentary Glory Daze: The Life and Times of Michael Alig, asked if he could shoot Michael for his first two weeks of freedom; The New York Times requested to ride along with everyone for his release. The production company rented a 15-person van for the occasion.
    Alig, Rico, and I climbed in. Outside we could see Fernandez being questioned by a pissed-off prison official: no big cameras were allowed to film on prison property.
    “How do you feel being free, Michael?” I asked, excitedly. We’d become close over the past decade, after a magazine asked me to interview him, for an article coinciding with the release of Party Monster. I’d thought Alig was an intriguing, complex person, and he seemed to have genuine remorse about killing Angel. After two interviews I’d agreed to help him with his autobiography, Aligula.
    “I feel like I’m about to be re-arrested!” Alig said.
    A prison truck had pulled in front of our van, facing us, and a hardened corrections officer wagged her finger and yelled, “They told me not to let you leave!” A second truck parked beside us.
    “They’re blocking us in!” Alig exclaimed.
    “Oh man, this is crazy,” I heard behind me. I looked back at Rico, who was wearing a rosary. He smiled sweetly.
    After a few stressful minutes, we were allowed to leave. “This is an iPhone,” I said, showing Alig as we raced along Interstate 90. For the past 18 months I’d been posting tweets he’d given me over the phone, so I taught him how to tweet for himself:







    At a rest stop, Alig tried Starbucks for the first time: “So decadent!” Then he and I took a selfie in front of a tree with large purple blossoms. “It’s so pretty—springtime! New beginnings!” Michael gushed. “It feels like being reborn again: everything is new and unusual.” In Manhattan, St. James and his crew waited outside the restaurant Almond in the Flat Iron district. “I’m nervous he’ll think I look fat and old,” Alig told me.
    “But he’s your friend,” I said. “And your skin looks great because you’ve been out of the sun for 17 years.”
    The reunion went well (“He’s the one who looks fat and old!” Alig joked), and we all sat down for Alig’s first fancy dinner in almost two decades. “It’s so weird tasting spices again,” Michael said, digging into his pan-roasted arctic char.
    He reminisced, until a World of Wonder employee/handler said, “No dessert—we have to get Michael to the Bronx!” His parole stipulated he had to be home by eight.
    “I feel like I did when I first arrived in 1984,” Alig said, back in the van and staring out at the shimmering skyline. “Like the city is full of potential and totally unwelcoming at the same time.”
    On Tuesday and Wednesday, Alig and I were in near constant contact—partially because he kept butt-dialing me with the old Android phone I’d lent him. His schedule was crazy as he met with his state and federal parole officers, a mental-health counselor and a Medicaid employee, sat with reporters for interviews, enquired about writing jobs, searched for a nonprofit that would let him volunteer; talked to galleries about showing his prison paintings . . . and continued filming.
    By Thursday morning, I noticed Alig smelled pretty bad. “I forgot to take a shower!” he said. “I’m used to the prison telling me, ‘You have to shower at nine A.M.,’ and now it’s hard to remember everything—to clean my clothes, brush my teeth, keep track of my keys, eat lunch.” I made him bathe at St. James’s hotel later that day, before World of Wonder filmed him watching Party Monster for the first time.
    On Thursday afternoon, I scrolled through some of the extremely positive (“You’re my idol! I want to be you!”) and negative (“Just overdose and die, scumbag”) tweets to Alig, feeling overwhelmingly conflicted. The scene Alig built in the early 90s was wonderfully creative, thrilling, and inclusive—at first. Michael has hundreds of letters from people who said he helped them love themselves for the first time, because they saw his gender-bending club kids preaching acceptance on talk shows like Geraldo. But that sparkly scene fell apart when heroin and crack were added into the equation—and now Melendez isn’t ever going to enjoy life again, so why should Alig? And yet: he completed his prison sentence, so doesn’t he deserve a chance to prove himself?
    That night, back in the Bronx, Alig seemed troubled. “It’s hard because I understand where all the hateful comments are coming from. I did something really horrible, like the most horrible thing. And am I remorseful? Without a doubt. I would give anything to take it back. I feel sick thinking about Angel’s brother and family, you know? Yet there’s nothing I can do,” he said. “All week part of me has felt the cameras shouldn’t be there, and a part of me felt giddy that they were there, and then another part of me felt guilty about the giddiness. And I’m wondering if the rest of my life is going to be that way: that any little pleasure is going to come with an equal or larger amount of guilt.”
    When I hugged him goodbye in his bedroom late that night, Alig looked forlorn. He gave me a little wave, and then lay back on his bed, trying desperately to be a free man.

    src


    Michael Alig’s First Week of Freedom, after 17 Years of Prison



    New York party promoter Michael Alig was released last week after serving 17 years in jail. The self-proclaimed “King of The Club Kids” infamously slayed his drug-dealer friend, Angel Melendez, in March 1996, before dismembering the body with his accomplice, Robert “Freez” Riggs, and disposing of it in the Hudson River. Here, in his own words, is his story.

    It was just after we had heaved the cardboard box containing Angel’s remains into the Hudson that we heard the deafening sound of helicopters. Police searchlights blinded us as we cowered by the roadside, raising our hands above our heads.

    In truth, there was no 4 a.m. swoop on that dark, chilly morning in March 1996. It was a figment of our drug-addled imaginations. Our day of reckoning on the West Side Highway was a paranoid hallucination caused by panic, fear and the mountain of heroin we’d consumed.

    Yet the dismembered corpse that Freez and I threw into the river and the sickening crime we had committed were all too real.

    Eighteen years on, looking back at the person I was at that time, I feel nothing but shame and disgust. I was a selfish junkie who killed another human being. But that’s not the Michael Alig I am today or the Michael Alig I was before I became an addict — the misfit from the Midwest who came to New York City in search of acceptance, opportunity and a whole lot of fun.

    It was August 1984 and I can still remember the knot of anxiety and excitement in my stomach as we crossed the George Washington Bridge as Mom and her boyfriend, Bill, drove me to Fordham University in the Bronx. It was intimidating looking at the famous Manhattan skyline, wondering how I was going to compete with all the beautiful, smart, talented, rich people living there.

    But soon I moved in their circles. I managed to latch onto a student called Ludovic, a flamboyant, sexually ambiguous type who was dating the artist Keith Haring.

    One night, Keith threw a party at Area, one of the coolest clubs in the city. In my hometown of South Bend, Ind., a nightclub was a honkytonk of men with beer-gut bellies watching sports on TV. This was a modern-day speakeasy with 300 people lined up outside. The doorman selected who got in, one at a time, like a florist chooses roses and carnations for a bouquet. Grace Jones was there. Cameras flashed. Ludovic, who was led out of our limo on a leash, wore nothing but underwear and white body paint.

    As a gay teen coming to terms with my sexuality, I was overwhelmed and exhilarated. It was liberating.

    Talk about being in the right place at the time. While the rest of the country was entrenched in depressing Reaganomics and “Just say no,” downtown New York nightlife was having a moment.

    It was a Warholian scene of self-proclaimed celebrities with names like John Sex, Billy Beyond and Sister Dimension. Their job was to go out every night and be fabulous.
    They were doing the fame thing backwards. Instead of accomplishing anything — writing, painting or acting — their plan was to first achieve a measure of celebrity. Once they got famous, everything they did amplified their notoriety. I wanted entry into this exclusive community.

    First thing I did was ditch the tacky Izod pants and Mondrianesque T-shirts which I’d thought were so cutting-edge in South Bend.

    I dropped out of college, earned $50 plus tips as a busboy at Danceteria and started organizing my own party nights. The first one at club owner Rudolf’s venue Tunnel was themed “Consumer Hell.”

    Satirizing the idea of conspicuous American consumption, I paid someone to bring me 10 shopping carts from a store in New Jersey. TV commercials played on the video screens. I wore a hat made out of an Oreo box and Fruit Loop earrings. People arrived in Saran wrap dresses stuffed with Cheerios and Fluffer Nutter. It was crazy.

    The idea of The Club Kids came about after I met James St. James, the flamboyant socialite, and my boyfriend DJ Keoki, who built up a following at Tunnel and later Peter Gatien’s marquee clubs in Manhattan, Limelight and USA.

    The clique expanded to include RuPaul, Robert “Freez” Rigg, Jennytalia and Gitsie. I loved the idea of packaging someone like a product, like the old movie industry in Hollywood who took Norma Jean and made Marilyn Monroe.

    We became the darlings of the club scene, paid merely to show up and bring a bit of fabulousness to the mix. We led a pampered existence of fancy dinners and media exposure.

    Meanwhile, one of my biggest successes as a promoter was “The Filthy Mouth Contest.” I had to do something that would cause a stir and figured I’d have a competition where you went on stage and said the raunchiest, dirtiest thing ever. Whoever shocked the audience most would win $100.

    People talked about being raped or raping someone. It devolved into public masturbation with beer bottles. Everyone was riveted. They couldn’t leave the room. I don’t know what the take was that night, but I got paid $500. “Thank God I quit college,” I thought. “I’m going to be a millionaire.”
    By March 1988, we made the cover of New York Magazine. I was going through my Little Lord Fauntleroy period — the bower around the neck, the ruffled shirt and the knickers. We were guests on Geraldo, Donahue and Joan Rivers. Our message was: “Love yourself. Don’t give a f— what other people think about you.”

    In the early days of Club Kids, it really was quite beautiful and positive. We helped the disillusioned and the disenfranchised believe in themselves — the gay kid from Iowa who didn’t dare tell anyone for fear of being mocked.

    Even though I didn’t really buy it myself, I was very good at getting that message out.

    Then, in the early ’90s, while I was employed as one of Peter’s directors, a darker side emerged to the club scene.

    Drugs were introduced such as Rohypnol and the animal tranquilizer ketamine, known as Special K. Cocaine and ecstasy were social drugs that made people chatty and euphoric. These were heavy downers that turned them into zombies.

    Strangely enough, I’d always been anti-drug. I hated it when Keoki took cocaine. Usually, when I found it in his pockets, I’d flush it down the toilet.

    But one time when I discovered his stash, I confronted him, put it on the back of my hand and snorted it. It was a selfish thing. It was like I was saying: “How does it feel now that your drug use has encroached upon our relationship? Now I’m a drug addict too!”

    It didn’t take long before things imploded. The drinking, drugging and lack of boundaries took its toll. I wound up in the hospital twice after overdosing on a near-lethal concoction of heroin, cocaine, ecstasy and ketamine.

    As for the club scene, it was the beginning of the end.

    By mid-1995, the Drug Enforcement Agency was on our case.

    The Limelight was repeatedly threatened with closure by the police, who suspected drug trafficking. They said we had a laissez-faire attitude and allowed dealers to operate in our clubs.

    In truth, we were paying them around $200 a night to host events. They weren’t the Gambinos, they were small-timers, often drag queens who made only enough money selling drugs to support their own habit.

    One of them was Angel Melendez, a 25-year-old Club Kid who lived in Queens but sometimes stayed over at my apartment with the others on weekends in Manhattan. He was a good guy, but we looked down on him because he was part of the Webster Hall crowd, whom we considered second-rate.

    In the middle of March 1996, we got word that the DEA was coming to our clubs on a certain Saturday night to arrest 30 or so dealers. The agency was going to threaten them with a lot of police time unless they turned state’s evidence against Peter.

    My job was to call them all and tell them not to show up that night and explain why. But Angel came to Limelight anyway around 2 a.m.

    On my instructions, the doormen turned him away. But he wanted to show off to his friends who were visiting from out of town.
    “Are you at least going to pay me for tonight?” he groused. He had accumulated several nights’ wages that were kept in the club safe.

    But again, we refused to let him in because of the threat from the DEA. “It’s for his own good,” I said. High on alcohol and Zanax, Angel left, disgruntled and humiliated.

    Then, just a few hours later at around 10 a.m., he showed up at my apartment on 43rd Street and 11th Avenue, the place where I lived as part of my salary at Limelight.

    “I want my money,” Angel demanded, still high. “Take me to the club to get it.” My mind was shot because I was just coming off a four-day binge on cocaine, Special K, heroin and crystal meth.

    What happened next was a silly, pushy catfight.

    Freez, staying over because he was helping renovate the apartment, poked fun at Angel’s captain’s hat. He always wore the same thing — the hat and a pair of wings.

    “We only let you hang out with us because you have drugs!” Freez yelled.

    “Are you going to let him speak to me like that?” Angel asked, looking at me.

    There was a scuffle and I went flying through a glass china cabinet. A large piece of glass pierced my back and blood spurted everywhere.

    Angel started biting me and Freez tried to pull him off.

    Freez reached for a hammer that was lying on a nearby table and hit him with the wooden handle. Angel fell to the floor. We sat on top of him and, wrapping a sweatshirt around my hand, I smashed it into Angel’s face.

    We were all high on ketamine. Maybe it was the combination of me doing it for too long or having more strength than I realized, but Angel stopped writhing.
    We laid him on the couch, thinking he was unconscious. It wasn’t until a few hours later that we realized he was dead.

    The following days were a blur.

    In a haze of drugs and a state of fear, we panicked. Instead of calling the police or even an ambulance, we made the horrifying decision to run from reality and try to cover up the crime.

    Involving the authorities, as gross and selfish as it sounds, would have involved being sober, facing the terrible thing we’d done. We were junkies. We didn’t do that.

    Besides, once this got out, it would be the end of the Limelight and the other clubs. Hundreds of people would be out of a job. Lives would be ruined because of the scandal.

    So we dragged Angel into the bathtub and went to get ice. We had baking soda and Drano in the apartment — the only things we could think to use to mask the odor — and poured Drano over Angel’s body.

    Then we left him there while we took enough heroin to work this out.

    Opiates give you this blanket of comfort where you think everything is OK, when it it’s obviously not.

    I don’t know who made the decision but, about eight or nine days later, Freez went to Macy’s to buy a pair of butcher’s knives.

    We had 20 bags of heroin delivered from our dealer. We did bag after bag. “I hope I overdose tonight,” I told Freez. “Then you are going to have two bodies to get rid of.”

    We did it relatively quickly, cutting at the joints. There was really no blood left because it had dried. Freez sprayed Calvin Klein’s Eternity all over the bathroom to disguise the smell, which was ironic.

    That night, we put the legs in a duffel bag and threw it into the river by the Intrepid around 4 a.m.

    Then we put the torso and head in a TV box and took it down to the Hudson at 26th Street.

    We were crazy paranoid the whole time. I kept imagining the police were coming, scrambling helicopters and hunting us down with giant searchlights.

    To be honest, though, I was less terrified about being caught than going to hell.

    I think that’s why I confessed to Gitsie and some of the other people I knew. But I told them in a manipulative, matter-of-fact way so they thought I was making it up.

    “Freez and I killed Angel,” I told friends at a dinner party who were asking about his disappearance one night.

    In August 1996, I went to see the Manhattan DA because rumors were circulating in the media and on the club scene. But nobody took it seriously. The police thought it was one of my pranks or some kind of performance art.

    Meanwhile, Angel’s brother, Johnny, came to town and was badgering them for answers. He was pressing the issue and was frustrated nobody was searching for Angel.
    I went to rehab in Denver, but it was a halfhearted attempt to get sober.

    My dealers were flying across from New York to supply me with Special K, cocaine and methamphetamine. I was in a state of numb haze. Because of the drugs, I wasn’t alive emotionally enough for the crime to bother me. I knew that the minute I stopped using, I would have to face the truth. I was afraid of this flood of reality.

    But Angel’s remains were recovered from the Hudson in the fall.

    In November 1996, the law caught up with me. I was staying with my boyfriend, Brian, in a hotel in Toms River, NJ, when the police knocked on the door.

    Michael Rodriguez, the DA, was actually kind. “We know that nobody wanted Angel to die, but it’s not going to go away,” he said. “Somebody has to pay.”

    They let me bring my heroin to get me up to Rikers because I told them I would get sick in a couple of hours. “You’ve got a lot bigger problems to worry about than a couple of bags of heroin,” the officer told me.

    Prison isn’t supposed to be easy, and it wasn’t. But, over the years, I found my place.

    I started painting and expressing myself through my art. I learned a lot about patience.

    After the 2003 movie “Party Monster” was released, based on my life, I received hundreds of letters from kids who were disenfranchised and felt like the whole Club Kids thing was speaking to them. It was really validating.

    The prison phones were segregated for whites, Hispanics and blacks, but the Bloods let me use their phone. One of the leaders was the kingpin of this ecstasy ring on Staten Island and Brooklyn. I guess he had been sending dealers to my clubs.

    He told all the other Bloods not to touch me because I ran all these great clubs. They saw me as a like-minded figure because I had my own kind of gang with the Club Kids. It was this subversive, anti-authority thing and they saw me eye-to-eye on this.

    But I was still using drugs inside. Percocet mainly.

    It wasn’t until March 2009 that I finally decided that enough was enough.

    I’d learned this through therapy, but it took a really long time to sink in.

    I committed a crime while I was on drugs and, for me to continue to use drugs while incarcerated for whatever reason was to say: “I don’t care about what I did.”
    The idea of this seemed so disgusting, so obscene that it made me feel like slime. I thought: “I can’t do this anymore. If I have to go through a year of withdrawal, well, you know what, I killed someone and that’s the price I have to pay.” And maybe I’ll feel better about myself later on when I actually did pay a price instead of masking everything continually with drugs.

    And that’s where I am now.

    It’s a stipulation of my parole that I don’t contact Angel’s relatives, but maybe they’ll reach out to me.

    I know that whatever I tell them, they will never get closure.

    But I’d like them to know that, when he was alive, Angel was just like the rest of us Club Kids — a misfit from the sticks who was very much loved in our alternative family of friends.

    Meanwhile, last Monday, when I was released from jail after 17 years, my friend drove me into Manhattan across the George Washington Bridge. I gazed at the Manhattan skyline and it felt exactly like the first time I came to New York three decades ago. I had the same knot of excitement and anxiety. But I’ve been given a second chance in this city full of misfits and dreamers. I’m glad I’ve survived.

    src

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    "Ink" (Produced by Timbaland!)



    "True Love"



    "Oceans"



    The rest of the songs are at the source

    I think it's their worst album :(

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    source

    idk if this is a comedy but I found it more depressing than funny :/

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    Today's leaked elevator surveillance video of Solange Knowles getting all Bad Girls Club on her brother-in-law Jay Z provided the world with all the receipts it needs that shit is fucked up in the Knowles-Carter family.

    But the real tea isn't the fight itself, but what could have possibly gone down between the two to make Solange kick her sister's husband in the balls. We explore three theories.

    1.) Solange is a nasty drunk.

    After the Met Gala it's the after-party, and after the party it's the hotel lobby—but first it's a melee in the elevator. Could Solange have just been over-served? The fight did take place at the end of the night, which is when people are usually at their drunkest.

    Considered the "feisty" one of the two sisters, Solange isn't afraid to call people out, even if it burns bridges or leaves her looking like an asshole. Somebody with a quick temper could easily turn into a bad drunk.

    With that being said, it doesn't seem like Solange was that wasted. First of all, she had the presence of mind to wait and unleash on Jay until they were all in the elevator, and not in public in front of everyone. Plus, wild drunken beasts looking for a fight tend to get just as mad at the person holding them back from the fight as they do at their target. Solange didn't go after Beyoncé's bodyguard Julius for interfering. She seemed with it enough to know exactly at whom to direct her anger. She also regained her composure enough to quickly and quietly walk to her car outside of the hotel.

    2.) Jay-Z insulted her as a mother.


    The extended video of the elevator fight goes on for about four minutes, with Solange going back for seconds at one point. That's a long time to be at peak anger to the point of physical violence.

    If it was something that Jay Z said to her that set Solange off, it would have to be something that really cut to the bone. Something had to truly move her to risk ripping her couture gown or losing a piece of her Lorraine Schwartz-borrowed jewelry or spitting on Beyoncé's Givenchy.

    One thing that's guaranteed to set almost any mother off is calling her parenting into question. Add in some alcohol and things could get really ugly. Perhaps Solange was a little bit tipsy or conducting herself in some manner to which Jay Z took exception. Maybe he said something like, "Nice way for a mother to behave."


    Sure, that's the kind of thing that could make a person lose their shit—but if that were really the case, wouldn't it make more sense for Solange to just tell him to fuck off and stay at the after-party and continue to drink? Why leave with the person who is judging you?

    3.) She was sticking up for her sister.

    Beyoncé and Solange have both intimated in the past that Solange is the more outspoken of the two and she doesn't mind going to bat for her big sister. The most striking thing about the elevator video is how calm Beyoncé appears—as though this is something that has happened before.

    Why didn't she try to hold her sister back? Why did she step aside and let her sister high-kick her husband right in the chest? Why is she letting her sister scream at her husband without correcting her? Maybe because Beyoncé thinks Jay deserved Solange's wrath.

    There have long been rumors about how Beyoncé and Jay Z's marriage is plagued with his infidelity. Those rumors have been fueled by Beyoncé's own songs which frequently reference it.


    Take a look at the lyrics from her last few albums: "Ring the Alarm,""Me, Myself & I," or "No Angel." Even "Love on Top," which is an ostensibly sweet song, is about the complicated ups and downs of a longterm relationship in which her partner hadn't been making her a priority.

    Solange's methods of attack are also interesting, and they indicate that Jay Z did something she felt was pretty reprehensible. She repeatedly tries to kick him in the crotch, she spits on him twice, she throws her handbag at him and when he hands her shoe back to her, she tries to beat him with it.

    This is the first time that there was proof of the violence that goes on behind closed doors within this family (it's possibly hinted at in "Drunk in Love"), but there have been a number of blind items about it for years.

    But we probably never will get the truth about what really went down in that elevator.

    Just moments after that traumatic family event, a pissed-off Solange got in one car and a confused Jay Z was ushered into another. Beyoncé posed and smiled for the cameras, like nothing had happened.

    Source

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    On paper, "The Watch" sounds like a no brainer of potential awesomeness. Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, Jonah Hill and Richard Ayoade ♥ play mild-mannered suburban dudes who have to fight off an alien invasion—what could go wrong? Well, pretty much everything and simply put, it wasn't good. And last year's "This Is The End" (also featuring Jonah Hill) took that similar concept to much wilder, funnier places. And indeed, "The Watch" pretty much tanked at the box office, barely making back its budget. So what was it like making? Well, with his inventive and unique "The Double" in theaters, Ayoade has referred to being involved in "The Watch" rather...clinically...

    "I like all the actors in it, and I like [director] Akiva [Schaffer]—for me, when I'm in something, my job is just to serve the director and do what they want," Ayoade continued. "It's kind of like giving a tissue sample. You have no idea what will be done with it. That's the experience for me of being in something that I'm not involved in the writing or directing of. You kind of go, 'You seem happy, okay!'"
    Making The Watch Was "Like Giving A Tissue Sample"

    We all like to moan about our jobs, but if you think your office is bad, British director Richard Ayoade’s latest film, The Double, should help you put things into perspective.

    Ayoade, who is also a comedian, actor, and writer, directed and co-wrote the film, which premieres in the U.S. May 9. He was drawn to the project because of the story’s unique take on the doppelgänger theme. "There is something very interesting about the main premise--that someone can be so unworthy of note that an exact replica of them could appear and no one would either notice or point it out to them. That seemed to me very funny,” he says.

    The Double, which debuted at the Sundance Film Festival, is Ayoade’s second feature as a director, following the critically acclaimed Submarine in 2010. Here, he gives Co.Create some of his insights on filmmaking, the creative process and the humiliations of office life.
    6 Lessons in Filmmaking from The Double Director Richard Ayoade

    Most people on this side of the pond might recognize veteran English comedian Richard Ayoade as the oddball techie Moss on the Britcom The IT Crowd, or as the odd man out from the 2012 A-list sci-fi comedy The Watch (he was the gentleman who was not Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn or Jonah Hill). He's established himself as a novel comic presence onscreen, gravitating toward characters that feel several beats off from the norm and don't mesh with their environments.

    Behind the camera, however, Ayoade has become a specialist in the art of syncing. His debut feature, Submarine (2010), took Wes Anderson's visual quirks and used them to make a coming-of-age film that could not have felt more provincially British. The Community episode he directed — a double-helix homage/parody of both Pulp Fiction and My Dinner With Andre— felt completely unique while sticking to the show's in-house style. (Some have called it the "21st century's greatest TV episode.") And with his latest film, The Double, Ayoade loosely filters Fyodor Dostoevsky's story of a clerk (Jesse Eisenberg) whose life is overtaken by his more confident doppelgänger (also Jesse Eisenberg) through a Kafkaesque dystopia of tyrannical bureaucracy and perpetual nighttime.
    On The Double: Richard Ayoade Meets His Match

    Members: Name 6 reasons why you stan for King Richard. Optional, of course.

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    How are you doing, Blacklist fans? Have you recovered yet from Monday’s finale? Picked your jaws up off the floor, after the NBC drama delivered one helluva conclusion to its freshman season?

    To keep your head from spinning, let’s revisit the five biggest moments from The Blacklist’s final installment of the year.



    1 | MEERA IS KILLED
    Not a single agent on the FBI task force deserves the fate that Meera suffers, but watching her get her throat slit by an accomplice of Berlin’s is especially heartbreaking. (Side note: Later learning that her children are just 5 and 8 years old totally didn’t help. Thanks for the knife in the gut, Blacklist.) Meera’s death occurs as she and Ressler visit a nightclub, hoping to track down a Russian fugitive that escaped from the unmarked plane that crashed in last week’s penultimate episode. Although Ressler is able to track down the prisoner, Meera isn’t quite as lucky. Her throat is cut, Game of Thrones-style, and Liz is just seconds too late to save her life.

    2 | COOPER IS KILLED (ALMOST)
    Unfortunately, Berlin’s accomplices are not quite able to scratch Harold Cooper’s name off the list of task force members they want eliminated. After Cooper takes a secret meeting with Special Agent Martin, who tells Cooper to track down Liz and Reddington, Cooper returns to his car and is very nearly shot to death by the same man who took Meera’s life. As we later learn, though, Cooper is clinging to life in the ICU. And at the end of the episode, he indicates he’s still hanging on with a twitch of his finger.

    3 | BERLIN IS REVEALED… TWICE!
    For much of this final hour, Liz, Red and the rest of us are still trying to figure out who the mysterious Berlin is, and why he’s so furious with Red. Liz and Ressler visit the only surviving guard from the plane crash, who is bed-ridden in the ICU, to learn who Berlin is. The answer? He is a former member of the KGB, who was notorious for sending his enemies to work camps in Siberia. After Berlin’s daughter was imprisoned for having a secret relationship with a dissident at the end of the Cold War, Berlin helped his daughter escape, causing him to then be held captive in Siberia as his daughter’s remains (and a pocket watch belonging to her) were sent to his jail cell, piece by piece. But after a time, Berlin filed one of his daughter’s bones into a knife — how, uh, sweet? — and escaped prison using the newly fashioned weapon. Later, Fitch believes he has tracked down Berlin, and Red meets him face-to-face…. before shooting him dead not long into their conversation.

    But wait. There’s more! Before episode’s end, it is revealed that the man Red shot was, in fact, not Berlin. Rather, the one they seek is the “guard” that Liz and Ressler spoke to earlier, who has escaped the hospital by the time the agents return to arrest him. (Of course.) Berlin’s most distinguishing feature? His lack of a left hand, which he himself cut off before jumping out of the unmarked plane. Red tells Liz that he knows Berlin is still on the loose, but he hopes the convict will soon come out of the woodwork once more.

    4 | LIZ SHOOTS TOM
    During Red’s face-to-face with The Man Who Is Not Berlin, Tom enters the room with Liz at gunpoint. Quite the scuffle ensues: Tom shoots Red, Liz shoots Tom, Red flees the scene, and before Liz leaves Tom to bleed out and die — which we later learn he doesn’t — Tom whispers something in Liz’s ear: “Your father is alive.”

    5 | LIZ’S FATHER IS REVEALED
    Quick show of hands: Who assumed from Day 1 that Red was Liz’s real father? (I expect to see lots of hands up, TVLine readers!) As revealed in the final seconds of tonight’s finale, that popular theory was proven correct. After Liz relays to Red that her father may still be alive, he reassures her that her real father — whose identity she must not know, for her own protection — died the day he saved her from that house fire. But just before the screen fades to black, Red is seen at home, revealing a back full of burns as he takes off his shirt.

    Source: TVLine.com

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