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- 09/16/14--09:26: _PayPal takes a swip...
- 09/16/14--09:27: _Six weeks after giv...
- 09/16/14--09:46: _Beyonce: On The Run...
- 09/17/14--04:08: _Jessica Chastain Is...
- 09/17/14--05:22: _Behind the scenes o...
- 09/17/14--05:48: _Charli XCX covers C...
- 09/17/14--06:15: _New book claims Bil...
- 09/17/14--06:15: _Britney extending h...
- 09/17/14--06:15: _taylor swift shake ...
- 09/17/14--07:18: _Kate Middleton Gets...
- 09/17/14--07:19: _Daniele Watts, You ...
- 09/17/14--07:48: _Sex Expert on Conan...
- 09/17/14--09:10: _Hilary Duff 2.0. Wa...
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- 09/17/14--09:10: _Sexy Riri On A Yach...
- 09/17/14--09:12: _TV Ratings Tuesday:...
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- 09/17/14--09:27: _‘New Girl’ Season 4...
- 09/17/14--09:34: _CoverGirl's Under S...
- 09/16/14--09:26: The Most and Least Liked Fall TV Actresses
- 09/16/14--09:46: Beyonce: On The Run From Singing Live
- 09/17/14--04:08: Jessica Chastain Is Tired of Waiting for a Female Superhero
- 09/17/14--06:15: New book claims Bill Cosby was a hard-partying serial cheater
- 09/17/14--06:15: Britney extending her Vegas show to 2017?
- 09/17/14--06:15: taylor swift shake it off outtakes #4 - the animators!
- 09/17/14--07:48: Sex Expert on Conan O'brien
- 09/17/14--09:10: Hilary Duff 2.0. Walks In NYC
- 09/17/14--09:10: Lauren Conrad Marries William Tell: See Her First Wedding Photo.
- 09/17/14--09:10: Sexy Riri On A Yacht Holiday in Barbados with Family & Friends
- 09/17/14--09:27: ‘New Girl’ Season 4 Premiere Recap: “The Last Wedding”
- 09/17/14--09:34: CoverGirl's Under Scrutiny For NFL Sponorship
If viewers chose shows based solely on stars they like, “Madam Secretary” would be doomed.
Tea Leoni, the star of the upcoming CBS political drama, has the lowest Positive Q Score (7), according TheWrap‘s study of actresses on new and key returning fall TV shows.
On the other hand, “NCIS” would still be in good shape going into Season 12, thanks in large part to the beloved Pauley Perrette. She topped our list with a whopping 31.
Here's how the marketing company arrives at its results for its clients, which include television networks, among others: President Henry Schafer and his Q Scores team provide a celebrity's name and a brief description to more than 1,800 study participants. The viewers are asked if they recognize the person and how they feel about him or her.
The outcome of that study is a Recognition score, a Positive Q Score— meaning the individual in question is the respondent's favorites — and a Negative Q Score, which is the exact opposite of what one hopes to be associated with.
The complete list at the bottom of this report is ranked by a candidate's Positive Q Score.
“TV personality Q Score metrics provide unique insight into the momentum that primetime casts bring to the opening of the fall television season,” Schafer told TheWrap.
“For returning shows, personality-driven appeal is extremely important for determining how strong or polarizing the cast is for maintaining viewer commitment,” he added. “For new shows, the strength of the personality driven-factor is very important for enticing viewer sampling prior to exposure to the quality of the storylines.”
full list @ the wrap
PayPal appears to be calling out Apple and its newly announced mobile payment service Apple Pay with an ad appearing in The New York Times print edition (via Pando Daily) indirectly reminding people of last month’s disastrous iCloud photo leak when a list of celebrities found their personal photos an intimate situations published on the web. The ad reads “We the people want our money safer than our selfies,” but PayPal isn’t without its own security issue in the past.
Apple already has over 500 million iTunes account with most having credit cards, the company says, and iCloud features like iCloud Keychain manage and utilize credit card data for auto-completing credit card information.
Starting next month, Apple will handle mobile payments in physical retailers and venues for iPhone 6 and iPhone 6 Plus users, though, with Apple Pay. Apple says it never sees data about the transaction, though, which is secured using a combination of NFC, the iPhone’s secure enclave, and Touch ID fingerprint reader.
Check out the full PayPal ad below.
ONTD, are you #TeamPaypal or #TeamApple?
The 36-year-old revealed the exciting news to OK! magazine, out Tuesday, while posing with her little 'miracle', who was born six weeks early.
Katie already has a daughter called Princess Tiaamii with former husband Peter Andre, as well as sons Harvey, Junior and Jett.
'We really struggled to decide on a name. I wanted to call her Duchess Kate or just Duchess, but Kieran didn't like that, so we've chosen Bunny, which we both like', the star told OK!. 'It's really cute, isn't it? I considered it being spelt Bunni with a heart above the i, but I don't think that's really a part of the English language.'
'I love Duchess Kate, though, so I've told Kieran that if we have another daughter that will be her name! I think it goes well with Princess. She would have been Duchess Kate of Brighton', she added.
Last week, Katie wrote in her Now magazine column that she was suffering serious baby name block and felt pressure to match it up with her seven-year-old daughter's name.
'It's so difficult to choose a name as I set my standards with Princess,' she explained.
In the meantime the doting mother, who had previously only uploaded a few covert photos of her new baby via her YouGossip page, had thought up a temporary nickname for her bundle of joy. 'Bean, as I'm calling her for the moment, needs a name to be up there like that'.
Katie previously revealed that she wasn't allowed to hold Bunny after she was born prematurely via emergency Caesarean section last month, similar to the birth of son Jett eight weeks early in the South of France last year.
Katie's shortlist of baby names before deciding on Bunny
Source 1 and 2
The only thing more embarrassing than your fave blatantly lip singing to 15 year old BOMT vocals is when your fave puts on this facade that they're some deity that can jazzercise and sing live for 3 hours on end and then #oop they get caught in that lie.
This past weekend in Paris during the infamous "On The Run" tour, Bey pops a squat and exposes haself
A+ for effort in regard to those recorded live vocals though, she almost pulled them off.
The Oscar-nominated actress, in Toronto with Miss Julie, says men and women alike are ready for a woman to take flight.
ONTD, what would be your ideal movie with a female superhero?
All the looks were on point but I'm ready for the next single to come and that better be Legendary Lovers
"WHUT. ARE. YOU. WRITING? WHUT IS SO IMPORTANT? LET ME SEE. NO, GIVE IT, GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING—AGH!” Charli XCX is grinning, a drink in her hand, pushing my drink into my face, spilling vodka on us both as she tries to steal my iPhone. It’s sometime after midnight in a back room of Baby’s All Right, the South Williamsburg, Brooklyn club the 21-year-old has just shut down with a DJ set. Covered in sweat and alcohol, she has the phone in her hand, and types away furiously in my notes. “Put that in your article,” she laughs, shoving it back at me. She sashays out the door of the club, friends in tow, on her way to a victory cigarette.
I should’ve seen it coming. When we first met, 12 hours earlier, she approached me in the middle of her cover shoot and tapped my shoulder.
“Hi, I’m Charli,” she smiled, extending a palm out of her pink kimono, a plate of meat and potatoes—literally, just meat and potatoes—from a nearby catering tray in her other hand. “Want to chat a bit while this thing goes on?”
Ten minutes later, she starts telling me about her period. “I’m kind of obsessed with it right now,” she says, grinning. “Periods are really punk.” She’s sitting in a makeup chair in a sun-soaked photo studio in Williamsburg, having her hair taken out of rollers between setups. “I want to have tampons as merch that say ‘PERIODS ARE PUNK.’”
She mentions recording sessions she did in Sweden, where she went to record some of the hundreds of tracks she has stored away, a few of which she describes as punk songs (“two minutes long, not a lot of words”). If she were to release them and tour with them?
“I’d call it The Tampon Girls,” she laughs again. “That’s such a sick name for a punk band.”
Like most of the next 12 hours I’m about to spend with Charli XCX—the songwriter and featured voice on global pop smashes like Icona Pop’s “I Love It” and Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy,” songs so popular you’d have to be clinically deaf to not have heard them in the Western World by now—I know how we got here. But it’s still difficult to believe.
After all, artists in the highest echelons of the pop charts aren’t supposed to be this forthcoming, or frank. Or legitimately funny, charming, and disconcertingly brilliant. They’re not supposed to be anything, really, but popular. In 2014, pop music is dominated by people whose images are calibrated to precise degrees, either by their own designs or those of freakishly controlling label executives. Charli XCX has by and large been an outlier in that group of people. She’s almost universally a critical darling. She’s spent as much time behind the scenes—helping write other people’s massive, global smash songs, and delivering their hooks, too—as she’s spent in front of them.
That looks like it’s all about to change. Over the summer, the hazy, anthemic, disturbingly catchy "Boom Clap" became Charli's first song to power into the top spot on a Billboard chart. And having been the voice of the hook for that other song of the summer, from London to To-k-yo, it’s not entirely unfair to expect her new album (named with a knowing wink: Sucker) to finally catapult her into that upper stratosphere of fame, the one that Charli’s been under the bleachers of, maybe a little too cool for, until now.
Yet: she doesn’t aspire to the trappings of traditional pop stardom (“I fucking hate divas,” she snarls. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to be. I don’t want to be a fucking asshole.”).
And she’s worth her word. At every opportunity, be it to a cab driver, a waitress, or an entire photo studio full of assistants, she thanks everybody sincerely. When we go to a concert and have trouble at the door, she doesn’t bark her name—or anyone’s name—at the doorman.
After midnight—at a point when she’s been running on about three hours of sleep for two days, during which she’s performed on Late Night With Seth Meyers and wrapped her Complex cover shoot—she in no way resembles a pop star in any traditional sense, let alone a manufactured one. This is after a turnt-up rap show, her DJ set, and getting an entire bar to do the Macarena with her, but before she makes out with some guy in the rain outside a bar, and before she and another nightcrawler send me a drunken, screaming voicemail. There are no red velvet ropes, no clubs with bottle service, no VIP areas. This is the kind of fun most pop stars sing about, but haven’t actually had in years. This is just a straight-up drunkass night out on the town.
This is also a Wednesday night, and all her idea. So, no: Charli XCX is not your traditional pop star.
Hailing from Stevenage, in Hertfordshire, England, about an hour north of London, Charlotte Emma Aitchison—the daughter of “super supportive” parents, a Scottish father and an Indian mother from Uganda—has music in her lineage.
Her father used to book shows for a small local venue, which may be why he struck a deal with Charli when she was 14 to support her music career with studio time. In five days, she recorded 12 songs, which became 14, her “debut” album that was used for promotional purposes but never actually pressed.
“I’m aware that when I talk about this in interviews I could come across as some spoiled rich kid who had Daddy’s money,” she quickly interjects. “My family is average. I didn’t have a crazy life as a kid.”
Tell that to her mother, who used to take teenage Charli to DJ warehouse raves in East London, where she was discovered. Consider the effort: “My mum was, like, standing next to people taking fuckloads of ketamine,” Charli smiles, wistfully. “Someone vomited on her shoes one time because they were in such a massive k-hole. And my mom looked after them.” Most parents would not do that.
As exciting as making 14 was, it wasn’t a perfect experience. “My label at that time was like, ‘We signed a youngin! We’re gonna make her a pop star,’” she laughs, presiding over a vodka-cranberry at the Brooklyn bistro Diner an hour after the shoot ends. The label wanted to craft her into a commodity.
She remembers being 16, in a label meeting: “They said, ‘You need to brush [your hair] if you want to sell records.’ I was like, ‘Are you. Fucking. Kidding me? Am I having this conversation with five 30-year-old men who are bald? This is ridiculous!’”
In short, it was soulless.“I felt like, is this it? Is this what I’ve signed up for? It was mechanical.”
But it wasn’t entirely a waste, either. “I’m glad that happened, because that told me exactly what I didn’t want to do,” she says.
Charli finished high school and after a year dropped out of the Slade School of Fine Art to focus on recording full-time. She signed with Asylum Records in 2010, and in June 2012 released an EP, You’re the One, featuring two studio singles and their respective remixes. She also released a mixtape, Heartbreaks and Earthquakes.
Heartbreaks features Charli singing over everything from Jai Paul to Blood Orange, interlaced with samples from Kill Bill and Cruel Intentions, among others. It’s a weird pastiche of ’90s sentimentality and distinctly of-the-moment music. You’re the One’s two singles, co-written with Patrik Berger (who’s worked with Lana Del Rey and Robyn) and Ariel Rechtshaid (the Grammy-winning producer who’s worked with everyone from Haim to Justin Bieber), demonstrate an acute self-awareness on Charli’s part: She started to refine the kinds of pop she wanted to make, and bring in master craftsmen to help her make it. This was around the time she started recording material for what eventually made up her major label debut album, True Romance. “You’re the One” was part of a package of beats Berger sent Charli.
The other was a song called “I Love It,” which would eventually be credited to Swedish duo Icona Pop, featuring Charli XCX. And with that one, Charli did what she always does: “I yelled [lyrics] into the computer for half an hour and never thought about it again.”
Only she did, because that song—the one about being a ’90s bitch, crashing cars, not caring, and loving it, the one that’s been heard everywhere from HBO’s Girls to Snooki & Jwoww to Sesame Street—did well. Platinum and gold worldwide well. And while Charli wrote it (and even sings the entire song with them on the track), she still only had second billing on it. And every interviewer, without fail, always asks her why she gave it away. Her answer is always the same: It wasn’t right for her, then. But the question is a weird one, as though it’s inconceivable that she could be seen as a songwriting talent.
What bothers her more is what transpired during and after the success of “I Love It,” for which she provided guest vocals. She witnessed “how people can change” after a hit song, “how it can suddenly turn from being super fun and cool and everyone’s happy to it just…”—she sighs—“becoming a wall.”
She’s clear that the problem wasn’t with Icona Pop but between herself and ominous “management.” “I got shut out of the process and pushed away from that song,” she says, sinking further into the corner booth. “I didn’t get the credit I deserved.”
Charli started to hate the music industry again. At recording sessions, she heard the same thing over and over again—execs wanted another hit. She impersonates the faceless suits: “We want ‘I Love It’ meets ‘212.’ Replicate this!”
She suddenly leans back into the table:“I can’t do that! I can’t replicate it because I genuinely have no idea how I wrote that song.”
Charli’s songwriting process is astoundingly spontaneous and reactive: Listening to a beat for the first time, she sings and records whatever comes out. Sometimes there are additional takes, but not always.
There’s a distinctly electric, kinetic quality to “I Love It,” the hook to “Fancy,” and “Boom Clap”—they’re built for parties and mixtapes, totally singable anthems. Incredibly, when lacking anything remotely resembling self-consciousness, Charli XCX produces hits that resonate around the world. But what about her more deliberate, self-conscious efforts?
True Romance, released in April 2013, didn’t have any hits, per se. The album had catchy songs about relationships destroyed and young, dumb love—common pop wheelhouse stuff. It was the packaging that set her album apart to its vocal admirers, many of whom were music critics. Lush, dreamy soundscapes and bedroom-ceiling musings with the coolest girl in school, finely produced to a tee, with each note exuding Charli’s naturally charismatic, smart edges. Maybe too smart. The album was a critical success, but despite building Charli’s devoted following, it struggled commercially, never cracking the Billboard 200. She loves True Romance but admits to making music in a way she’s not entirely proud of: “I just wanted to make sure people thought I was cool,” she says. “That’s what I was worried about.”
It shows. In a late 2012 dustup, a few months before True Romance dropped, the lead singer of indie pop group Elite Gymnastics penned a Tumblr post, writing off Charli XCX as a product of an industrial pop music complex. It finished by calling her a “mangled, grotesque approximation” of fellow female act Grimes, alongside whom she’d posed on the cover of a magazine a few months prior. The critique clearly hit hard. Charli penned a sincere, earnest response, explaining that she’d been working her ass off, and pledging to never respond to that kind of thing again.
At Diner, when asked about encountering this critique of her identity as a female performer who writes her own music, she goes off:
“There’s always a catch. Like: ‘Does she really do that? I heard her mum wrote that song.’ I read that about Lorde. I’m like: As if! Just because she’s young and successful, why is someone trying to take that away from her? It’s because she’s highly intelligent and a female who’s killing it. She’s doing something different, and people are afraid of that.” And then there are the inevitable comparisons, not to other pop songwriters—not to Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo or Vampire Weekend’s Rostam Batmanglij, both of whom Charli’s worked with on her new album—but to other female pop stars. “Just ’cause we all have vaginas doesn’t mean that we all play against each other. We’re all doing our own thing.”
And that thing is clearly working. It also involves more than fixating on these ideas. After all, Charli’s Tumblr response is still there. The one that provoked it, however, has since been deleted.
After the release of True Romance, something curious happened: “I just stopped giving a fuck.”
Charli went to Sweden. She recorded those punk songs. She stopped caring about pleasing critics or becoming famous. After turning down so many people in the industry for writing work, she decided to work with whomever she felt like, appearances notwithstanding. She wrote for Britney Spears and with Dr. Luke. Iggy Azalea’s people sent her a beat. Charli was a fan of Iggy’s song “Work.” She wrote several hooks to the beat. “I had that rap in my head, the ‘Who dat, who dat? I-G-G-Y,’” she says. “I was like, that’s fucking cool. Then I just did my thing.”
Her “thing” resulted in yet another No. 1 single. And her not giving a fuck resulted in new sessions, with Batmanglij, Cuomo, and über-producer Stargate, that birthed material for a new album, Sucker, to be released this fall. She acknowledges that some people—maybe even some of her core fans, Charli’s Angels, as they call themselves—might not like it, that it might be too pop for them.“Some people will look at that like, ‘She’s working with Stargate, she’s sold out.’ That’s the kind of person I used to be—and now I think that kind of person is fucking retarded.”
Of course, mixed in with all of the work, there’s semblance of a life. She still has a handful of close friends who “literally do not give a fuck about Charli XCX” and a few real friends she’s made in the music industry. It’s a close circle. Charli considers herself an awkward person, or at least has felt like one lately. She’s had panic attacks in the studio, during which she’ll start to crawl on or under the equipment. She’s shut down before, emotionally. She’ll quickly cop to feeling self-conscious at existential moments of recognizing her weird, sometimes isolating existence.
When I ask her to elaborate on all of this, she’s already ahead of me. It all just spills out:
“There are days where I can go into a room full of people, talk to every single person, and feel completely at ease, and feel like making every single person laugh, and feel like everyone’s having a great time. There are other times where I go into a room of people and I literally want to run and hide. I want to lock myself in the bathroom and cry, which I’ve done. It’s not because anyone’s saying anything horrible to me. It’s just...people are asking me questions—not even asking me questions about Charli XCX.”
Before I can ask her whom these people are asking her about: “I’ve felt like a schizophrenic person since the beginning of 2014. Sometimes I just shut down and want to stay in bed and cry. Other times I want to get fucked up in the most fun way possible.”
It doesn’t seem to be my place to tell her that this is a surefire indicator of a human being in her 20s. But there are also hints of something a little more existential. And then:
“I haven’t figured out what triggers the sudden thing. I’m exhausted today. So tired. I woke up at 4 a.m. yesterday and stayed awake until 6 a.m. because I was having loads of sex”—here, she laughs to herself—“and then I woke up at 9 a.m. this morning because I had to go, so I’ve had three hours of sleep in the last two days. But I’m not moody. So, it’s not because I’m tired, because otherwise I would’ve shut down now.”
Regarding the all-nighter, I have to ask: How hard is she partying these days? “Maybe you’ll get to see,” she laughs, flicking a french fry across her plate.
After dinner, we drive to Webster Hall, where Swedish rapper Yung Lean is about to make his stateside debut.
Charli’s been talking about the show all day; she met him and his crew, the Sad Boys (Yung Sherman and Yung Gud—pronounced Yung G-YOOD, which means “Yung God” in Swedish, Charli explains), over a year ago on a trip to Sweden, and has been singing their praises ever since. After Charli weaves through the crowd and squeezes through the door to a packed, weed-scented greenroom, the tense group of Swedish teenagers receives her well, immediately perking up in her presence, hugging and high-fiving her. At one point, Yung Gud starts screaming at Charli, in warbled, off-kilter English:
“I’M SO-A FAN-CEE!” Charli frowns at him, and then playfully pushes his bucket hat down on his face. This seems to be a pattern of sorts. The first time she met Rostam Batmanglij, she explained, he approached her outside a South by Southwest show and started screaming at her: “I! DON’T! CARE! I LOVE IT!”
As the show starts, Charli stands at the back of the venue and starts bouncing up and down to the music, dancing and rapping along. It’s a surreal scene: chart-topping Charli XCX, at the Yung Lean show, among the crowd, leaning against a mirrored column. Taped above her is a flyer that reads, in large, red letters: “CHARLI XCX. TICKETS ON SALE SOON.” I’m not sure she notices it.
At Baby’s All Right, Charli takes the mic to loud applause and announces to the room: “Hi, I’m Charli XCX, the world’s worst DJ.” The crowd is too loud to hear what comes next, but the gist is that she dedicates Aqua’s 1997 so-bad-it’s-good dance hit “Barbie Girl” to “the reporter I’ve spent all day with,” as if making a final pronouncement on what her messaging that day amounts to. But then comes the Macarena, and yes, an entire club full of people, in 2014, unironically does the Macarena with her. Her set rages on: Amerie’s “1 Thing,” J-Lo’s “Jenny From the Block” and “I Luh Ya Papi,” Missy’s “Gossip Folks,” then will.i.am’s “Feelin’ Myself,” and Steve Aoki’s “Beat Down.” She even breaks one of the sacrosanct laws of DJing (Never Play Your Own Shit), and drops a remix of “Fancy.”
By Charli’s own admission, she’s mostly just playing songs off a laptop. And yet, on the low, it’s an expertly DJ’d set, and leaves the entire crowd sweaty and exhausted. One nightlife reporter rages so hard that he ends up on his ass, on the sweat-and-booze-slicked dance floor. Her set demonstrates something I’ve seen hints of all day: This is someone who loves music, who has an incredible ear for it, who knows what people love about it, loves what it does to people, and would genuinely like to continue in that pattern.
Outside, when it’s clear that the party is dispersing, Charli and I shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and part ways. One of us has work in a few hours, and the other has a plane to catch to play a festival in Scotland.
Around 1:30 a.m., my phone rings and I let it go to voicemail. The next morning, I see the message. It’s from the nightlife reporter I’d seen raging on the dance floor at Charli’s DJ set earlier. Apparently, Charli’s night had not ended at the club.
“AY, FOSTAH, IT’S ME! CHARLI XCX! NO, NO, ACTUALLY I’M NATE, AND CHARLI XCX HAS A MESSAGE FOR YOU”—then, the nightlife reporter’s voice—”Heya, Foster. It’s Charli XCX, I just wanted to let you know that you’re a fuckin’ asshole, and um”—Charli’s now shouting in the background—”NO! NO! I’M NATE AND I SAY YOU’RE NOT AN ASSHOLE! NATE SAYS YOU’RE FUCKING AWESOME!” And then the call fades out into the din of what I can only picture as some other raging bar, somewhere else in the night.
At Diner, earlier that night, I’d asked Charli what her endgame is. “I just want to leave my mark,” she says. “I just want people to write about Charli XCX.” Maybe she’s being hyperbolic. Maybe not. I take the bait: What does she want them to write? At this, Charli looks down at the table, then back up at me, and says, as seriously as she would say anything all day, “Just...that I was an important songwriter who changed the landscape of pop music.”
And then, with a smirk: “That’d be pretty cool.”
Famous for playing an adoring and caring father on screen, Bill Cosby was anything but in real life and repeatedly cheated on his wife while leading a playboy lifestyle, a new book claims.
Cosby: His Life and Times by Mark Whitaker goes beyond the comedian’s trademark whimsical style and warm smile to allege a sordid and lavish life of infidelity and aggression.
Allegations of a hard-partying lady’s man who repeatedly cheated on his loyal wife Camille are detailed in Whitaker’s book. The biography paints a fascinating picture of a deeply flawed and complicated man who has battled personal tragedy during his hugely successful career.
At its peak, The Cosby Show was earning its star a staggering $1 million an episode. Whitaker writes about the significant cultural impact it had on American society, breaking down racial barriers with its portrayal of an African American family. For a man who grew up in poverty and shined shoes for a living as a young man, Cosby’s sudden wealth and success was a world away from his roots - a world that including private jets and luxury cars.
That success fuelled a playboy lifestyle that included affair after affair, wild parties in Las Vegas and an over-the-top obsession for the finer things in life, says the book.
Despite repeatedly promising his wife that he would settle down and become loyal to her, romantic indiscretions continued for decades to come, Whitaker writes.
Cosby, now 77, has been no stranger to controversy. Cosby was accused of sexual assault as part of a damning lawsuit that he later settled out of court. And in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, revelations of a secret love child, who had tried to extort money from the funnyman, played out in tabloids.
The author gives insight into what he describes as an infamous short fuse and violent temper.
Whitaker details an incident that took place in 1977 at the Playboy Mansion, when Cosby coward-punched fellow comic Tommy Smothers.
“Cosby was so furious that he couldn’t control himself,” Whitaker writes. “He slipped around (Hugh) Hefner and punched Smothers in the head from behind, so hard that the smaller comedian fell to the ground.”
Hefner was forced to pull the two men apart in a bizarre altercation that began when Cosby interpreted a compliment from Smothers as a slight.
Similarly, Cosby lashed out on the set of his iconic TV hit The Cosby Show. He attacked a cameraman one day and again had to be restrained by an onlooker, Whitaker writes.
Each week, tens of millions of viewers tuned in to watch the Huxtable family go about its life. It made Cosby a star and saw him amass extraordinary wealth.
But Cosby’s life was marred by personal tragedy on numerous occasions, including daughter Erinn’s battle with drug addiction, Whitaker details in the book. And it’s said Cosby never really recovered from the shooting death of his son Ennis in Los Angeles in 1997.
After Ennis’s death, Cosby commissioned portraits and bust statues of his son and would speak to them as though they could hear him, Whitaker claims.
And on the health front, a severe case of glaucoma has robbed Cosby of most of the vision in both eyes, he writes.
“The vision in the first eye and then in the other would slowly but irreversibly deteriorate. It took a decade for others to realise that anything was wrong.”
Despite all this, Cosby continues to spend more than half the year travelling the United States to perform in stand-up comedy clubs and at special showcase events.
Pop princess Britney Spears is racking up such impressive ticket sales with her resident show “Britney: Piece of Me” at Axis Powered By Monster at Planet Hollywood that she’s become the top-selling Strip artist for Caesars Entertainment.
The “Work Bitch” singer, who recently split with boyfriend David Lucado after he reportedly cheated on her with a porn star, has hit No. 1 while Celine Dion is absent from the Colosseum at Caesars Palace.
Britney’s sold-out shows at Planet Hollywood, a Caesars Entertainment property, have been so consistent that discussions for a two-year renewal of her deal originally set to end in 2015 are getting close to signed contract status.
The Wicked Whispers & Racy Rumors must be real because her manager Larry Rudolph has become one of Las Vegas’ newest residents, moving here full time to a luxury apartment complex just five minutes from Axis. Larry partied at Beacher’s Madhouse in MGM Grand over the weekend.
After visits to Britain and more of Europe next week for her new lingerie line, Britney returns to the Strip for nearly all of October and with additional dates through Feb. 28.
Queen of Vegas
Appaz it's happening tonight
Ginger, royal stud Prince Harry turned 30 this week, we didn’t get a national holiday which seems unfair, but apparently he’s got Ellie Goulding as a birthday present. The singer, who cuddled the royal backstage at the Invictus Games closing ceremony on Sunday, where she also performed, will be the main act at his birthday party tonight in London, reports claim.
Looks like the royals are huge Ellie fans as she also performed at Kate Middleton and Prince William’s wedding reception, singing a cover of Elton John’s Your Song for their first dance. According to The Sun, she’ll be bashing out the hits for all Harry’s friends after Kate asked her to perform.
"Kate knows Harry is a big fan of Ellie and wanted her to be part of the evening. It's a huge compliment for her, especially because she is such a fan of Harry and all the work he does,” the source said.
"Ellie said yes straight away and has agreed to perform whatever Harry fancies on the night. They added: "It’s going to be a really intimate acoustic set. Harry will love it."
The big party is apparently tonight at Clarence House, Harry's dad's London home. We're yet to get our invite, but expecting one any minute. The Sun didn't reveal many other plans for the party, but we're hoping Royal Blood are performing or Lorde, they seem more fitting than Ellie.
If Kate Middleton's organising the party - as has been reported - we're guessing it's going to be a tame affair. It's hard to imagine what exactly Harry's taste in music is, but apparenty Foo Fighters and the Kaiser Chiefs are two of his favourite bands. Both were on the bill, along with Ellie at the Invictus games closing ceremony.
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The "Django Unchained" actress who cried racism against the LAPD ... claiming they harassed and hurt her because she was just making out with her white boyfriend in a car -- has some explaining to do, because we obtained pictures that seem to show A LOT more than sucking face.
The pictures were taken Thursday outside the CBS lot in Studio City. You see Daniele Watts straddling BF Brian -- their hands steadying themselves around the sunroof.
She's got a lot to smile about, with a wardrobe envied the world over and a career as a jet-setting actress under her belt.
And Jessica Chastain had one more thing to smile about as she put on a stylish display while out and about in New York City's SoHo district on Tuesday.
The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby actress had reason to be pleased with her sartorial choices, battling the seasonal transition by teaming a belted navy woolen coat with bare legs and a pair of vertiginous killer heels.
The 37-year-old opted to leave the coat's belt undone - protecting her from the Manhattan chill in a carefree manner.
Sexing up her otherwise plain outfit, the actress wore a stunning pair of metallic open side stilettos, featuring a fierce pointed toe and red soles.
She showed no sign of being cold despite braving bare legs and open-side shoes in the autumn chill.
Chatting away on her hands-free, the Zero Dark Thirty star revealed a plum toned manicure, which matched the knee-length dress hiding beneath her coat.
Sticking to the autumnal colour palette, the actress had chosen a muted berry stain for her lips. A classic smoky eye added a touch of drama to the look.
Her trademark fiery locks appeared freshly blowdried, showcasing the fringe she had cut in in June.
A black leather bag was slung over the actress' shoulder, with gold studs and a chain-handle adding a quirky edge to the accessory.
It is the same bag she was pictured with on Friday at a screening of The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby in Downtown Manhattan.
Perhaps the bag contains scripts for Jessica's next venture in the movie world after a brief hiatus earlier this year.
The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby is a very long film. It goes on and on and nothing much happens but this going on and on. And you can easily imagine the amazement that filled my face when I learned that it could actually have gone on and on for much longer than I saw it going on and on. The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby I watched is a condensed version (thanks to Harvey Weinstein) of two films. The first one, called The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Her, is 100 minutes; the second, The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Him, is 90 minutes. Them, the condensed version, is 122 minutes. I have taken flights to Africa that felt shorter and more eventful than this movie, which is about an upper-middle-class thirtysomething couple (James McAvoy and Jessica Chastain) that’s slowly (ever so slowly) dealing with a marriage broken by the death of their child.
The couple met, fell in love, got married, and had a baby, and then the baby died (we are never told how). After the tragedy, the husband stayed in the city (NYC), and the wife moved to the suburbs. The wife is taking classes in critical theory for no particular reason. The husband runs a restaurant that makes no money (his father owns a successful and fancy Manhattan joint). What the film indicates is that this class of white Americans just might not have any more stories to tell. Why? Possibly because it’s a class that has no real problems, no real challenges, no real passions. The super-rich at least have the problem of how to make life miserable for the rest of humanity. The poor have the big problem of being poor. The middle class has the problem of debt. The upper class is just there. It has nothing to worry about.
Yes, a dead baby is at the heart of Eleanor Rigby, but that’s not enough. Death happens. Life comes and goes. Dealing with grief is old hat. This problemless plot is coupled with the most cinemaless kind of filmmaking. The writing in Eleanor Rigby is vapid, the cinematography is plain, the acting is as interesting as a piece of wood, and the soundtrack is predictably sad/sappy. The appearance of Eleanor Rigby’s end credits brought to me the feelings a convict might have moments before they’re released from prison.
So, no Oscars this year
Once upon a dream, Lauren Conrad got married. The Paper Crown designer's Sept. 13 wedding to William Tell was every bit as romantic and beautiful as you'd imagine — and only the new issue of Us Weekly has all the exclusive details and pictures from her special day.
The Hills alum, 28, said "I do" to her longtime love, 34, in a rustic-chic ceremony on the California coastline, with family and friends including Lo Bosworth in attendance. Conrad gave Us an inside look at the nuptials, which boasted countless Pinterest-worthy personal touches like vintage hankies and homemade apple pie.
Planning the event (with help from bridesmaid/wedding planner Cassandra Herschenfeld) was no small undertaking, but the end result was more than worth the time and effort she'd expended. "I don't know that I have ever been as happy as I was walking down that aisle," the LC Lauren Conrad for Kohl's designer gushed to Us. "It was amazing!"
In fact, the whole day was pretty incredible, from the bride's couture wedding gown to the "crazy party" of a reception.
For details on all that and much, much more — plus tons of gorgeous photos of her dress, her groom, her bridesmaids, and her dream reception — pick up the new issue of Us Weekly.
Riri is spotted back home in Barbados for a family visit. After her tour with Eminem, Rihanna finally has some quality time for herself and with her family and friends. The group was seen hanging out on a yacht holiday. Riri has several activites while out at the open sea. She ws seen snorkeling in between with her friends. Seems like a good fun!
What fall shows are you hoping are hits ontd?
Nicole Scherzinger’s new album is called ‘Big Fat Lie’.That image above of her looking a bit hot and bothered is the ‘cover art’, obviously.
Maybe she’s upset with the font.(the shade)
Also, after her fans solved an elaborate (annoying) emoji-based word search thing last night, it also has some song titles.
The album is out October 17th in Ireland and October 19th in the UK. A US release date is expected to be announced soon, but as her hit single states, Don't Hold Your Breath.
Jess and Nick were never the heart of New Girl. For a while they appeared to be as they took over the majority of Season 3 with the beginnings of their romantic relationship and then the end of it. They were often the core of the show — Jess is, after all, the titular New Girl — but it was clear from day one that this sitcom works better as an ensemble piece. The roommates as one collective group (and I include Cece in this even though she’s still vastly underused) are the real heart of New Girl. The friendship is what keeps the show afloat and what keeps me coming back, as evidenced by this season premiere.
At the end of Season 2, my main concern was how New Girl was going to handle Nick and Jess finally getting together. At the end of Season 3, my concern was how they are going to spend a season with these two broken up but living together, simultaneously good friends but dealing with that lingering awkwardness — especially when it comes to dating other people. “The Last Wedding” is aware of these problems and quickly tackles them but keeps it real enough to not provide any easy fixes.
“The Last Wedding” shows what I love so much about New Girl: silly friends doing silly things and endlessly supporting each other. At the center of the episode is a pact that all five roommates will hook up with someone at the wedding they’re attending. They’ve been to so many weddings over the summer yet not all of them were taking full advantage of the situation (Jess has an odd encounter with a dog and Nick made out with a bridesmaid who wore a hospital bracelet and carried around a dead goldfish which is maybe the most hilarious mental image in the world). But Schmidt, Cece-less Schmidt, is back to being himself and demands that they all go home with someone that night. Of course, this proves to be much harder than expected.
For Coach, he has already hooked up with every woman at the wedding. For Nick and Schmidt, their only option is a fourway with two bridesmaids but Nick is obviously hesitant, only tentatively agreeing once he finds out Cece is single again and that has the potential to wreck Schmidt. For Winston, well, he’s Winston and New Girl is still mostly “whatever” about him. And for Jess, she’s in a fierce competition with Kat (Jessica Biel, who is not exactly a gifted comedic actress but can play the deadpan genius) for best man Ted (Reid Scott).
Sitcom weddings are always a great setting for easy laughs and New Girl definitely uses this to its advantage. There are funny jokes throughout like Nick’s back-and-forth on the fourway (and Winston’s elaborate demonstration with the salt and pepper shakers), Nick’s tap shoes (amazing running joke), and Jess’ always-awkward attempts to flirt with someone — this episode introduced the wonderful concept of “The Joe Biden,” a flirting move in which someone is just simply there, always, though Jess takes this to the extreme and ends up in the men’s bathroom with Ted.
But it was obvious from the beginning that no one was going to hook up at this wedding. That was never the point. The two most important things in “The Last Wedding” are the sweet conversation between Jess and Nick and the cute ending. There is always going to be some awkwardness between exes, especially ones that don’t get the chance to get space from each other, but the bathroom conversation where Nick reassures Jess is such a wonderful scene, showing that these two are going to be friends no matter what. Who knows if they’ll end up together again — all that matters is that they’re friends. Then there is the ending that shows what New Girl is all about, that really gets at the heart of the comedy: No one goes home alone because they all have each other. Maybe it’s too neat of an ending but I’ll take it.
A Photoshopped NFL CoverGirl ad is circulating the web following the recent domestic abuse scandal involving Baltimore Ravens running back Ray Rice.
The NFL is under tremendous scrutiny after a video of Rice was released, showing Rice knocking his wife unconscious in a Las Vegas elevator. Shortly after, the NFL put out a statement saying it hadn't seen a copy of the tape until the news broke. Turns out the NFL reportedly recieved the tape in April.
CoverGirl, a Procter & Gamble cosmetics company, is the official beauty sponsor of the NFL. Since the news broke, people have pointed to CoverGirl's "Get Your Game Face On" campaign and urged that the cosmetic brand tell the NFL that its current commissioner, Rodger Goodell, should be fired. They have used a CoverGirl Baltimore Ravens image and Twitter to send this message.
CoverGirl released a statement on Monday and Tweeted, not specifically addressing the photoshopped ad, but taking a stand against domestic violence and asking that the NFL "take swift action on their path forward to address the issue of domestic violence."
Here's the full statement:
As a brand that has always supported women and stood for female empowerment, COVERGIRL believes domestic violence is completely unacceptable. We developed our NFL program to celebrate the more than 80 million female football fans. In light of recent events, we have encouraged the NFL to take swift action on their path forward to address the issue of domestic violence.