The cheeky monkey is growing on me. So beautiful.
Guys In White Pants
The Jimi Hendrix edition (thanks, Bri Bri!).
“Ten? Good on you, mate!”
John Cameron Mitchell is working on a sequel to Hedwig & the Angry Inch!
American Idol Mariah, Part 4
Let’s all take a moment of silence for all the feeling Mimi’s full-time, personal Photoshop artiste lost in his fingers after spending hours upon hours erasing all pixels of reality from her first American Idol promo picture to make this gloriously fraudulent masterpiece. Mimi’s Photoshopper used the hell out of the de-rib tool and pinched her waist so much that it looks like her intestines escaped up to her chichis area to keep from suffocating. Even that sun looks skinnier.
Everything about this is perfection from her HERP DERP hand poses to the sun setting in the background to the blurry puddle of Photoshop sloppiness in the water on the left. It’s as if the late Bob Ross and the late Thomas Kinkade joined artistic forces to paint a portrait of Mimi using only melted wax and lies.<
American Idol Mariah, Part 3
>Looks good to me! It’s definitely a little scary when you nail something so completely on the first shot because there’s always going to be that voice in your head that’s like, “I know this one looks perfect, but maybe if I had just tried one more time it would’ve been even MORE perfect,” but I think in this case you just have to silence that voice. You cannot get any better than this! I don’t want to spend a lot of time breaking down all the elements because the last thing you want to do with magic is over-explain, but let me quickly mention that the face — my goodness, the face is just unbelievable. That is a Grade A face. Perfect human smile and perfect human eyes, alight with the fact that they are not only from a human, but from a human who is smiling in a way that is completely natural. Was this photo taken candidly? Did Nick Cannon take this photo while he and Mariah were vacationing privately somewhere, perfectly relaxed and enjoying the safe comfort they find in each other’s presence? NO? THIS WAS A STAGED PHOTO TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER? Bananas. And what a bold move, to hold your hands in such a simple, relatable way for your American Idol promo photo. No flashy stuff here, just Mariah being Mariah — and you know what? It works. No, I definitely do NOT think they should’ve taken another shot at this Mariah Carey American Idol promo picture.<
American Idol Mariah, Part 2
>How many Spanx does it take till you get to the center of Mariah Carey?!
Girl, no shame! You punched out some babies! These are the facts of life!
Take a peek at MiMi’s FIRST promotional pic for American Idol. Sure, maybe she got some help … but who doesn’t need assistance when the whole NATION has it’s eyes on you!<
American Idol Mariah, Part 1
Tom + Lorenzo:
>“These are my breasts, which have served me well in my career, and this is my waist, which doesn’t look like this in non-official pictures of myself.”
Never change, Mimi. But why are your lips, nails, hair and skin all the exact same color? It’s a bit disconcerting.<
Someone has been working out.
It was my second day in London. I had slept away a good portion of my first day, trying to get rid of any lingering jet lag. But day two dawned and I felt like getting out of my hotel room and exploring. It was lunchtime and I was starving, having only had some (ok, a lot of) coffee. I was heading in the direction of food when my phone pinged with a text.
“Have you run into any celebrities yet? Cute rock stars? Anything?” It was from my best friend back home. I laughed when I read it; I had joked with her that I was going to stalk any cute famous boys I saw, knowing, of course, that the likelihood , in this city of millions of people, was slim. “Not so far, but looking!” I typed, walking with my eyes on my mobile rather than the sidewalk, and just barely missing a collision with someone who had rushed out of a shop towards a waiting car. I stuttered my apologies, but he kept going and I continued on. A couple steps further I turned to look at him, something familiar nagging at me. I only caught a glint of sunshine on aviator sunglasses and brown hair before the car door closed, hiding him behind dark, tinted glass. I shrugged and kept walking.
After lunch and an exhausting, long afternoon exploring the National Gallery (so. much. art.), I needed a drink and some quiet after the crowds in the museum and Leicester Square. I had scoped out a small bar off the lobby in my hotel and I was hoping it would be relatively empty and peaceful, particularly compared to the pool bar on a lower level, booming club music even in the daylight hours. The darkened cool of the modern hotel lobby was just what I needed. I smiled at the front desk manager while crossing to the bar entrance and just as I had hoped, it was nearly deserted; no one at the bar and only a couple tables occupied. I took a stool in the middle of the bar and ordered, “Vodka and lime, lots of ice, please.”
“Let me guess, an American,” the bartender said with a grin. “You lot always want so much ice.”
“What can I say? We like our beer ice cold too,” I teased.
He rolled his eyes as he handed me my drink, “Vodka and lime, with LOTS of ice.”
“Thank you!” I took a large gulp, and the chilled, citrusy flavor was exactly what I needed. “It’s perfect,” I added, as I dug my mobile out of my purse. I was busy answering a few texts and checking emails so I barely registered that someonehad come in and the bartender was asking for his order.
“What are you having there?” I heard him say.
“Oh! You’re speaking to me! I apologize,” I said hastily, putting my phone down and glancing up. “It’s a vodka and lime, nothing fanc…y.” Oh shit! Sitting one bar stool over from me, asking for my drink recommendation was Louis Tomlinson. I quickly took another gulp of my drink, trying to calm myself down. I did not want to be THAT girl.
“Thanks, I’ll have one of those too, then,” Louis said. I smiled and went back to my phone, my hands shaking slightly. Any emails or texts I read in the next few minutes were forgotten the second I stopped looking at them. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else so I drained the last of my drink, trying hard not to stare at the gorgeous man sitting so close. Let’s face it, my One Direction/Louis obsession had become a joke to my friends, so it was completely ridiculous that this was happening. I stole a couple glances and thought he looked a little tired, perhaps a bit sad.
I held my empty glass up to the bartender. “Another, please?”
“Vodka and lime, lots of ice, coming right up,” he answered.
“Hey, what’s this ‘lots of ice’ business? I didn’t get lots of ice!” Louis was grinning, and holding up his now-empty glass.
“American,” the bartender said, nodding his head in my direction.
“Well, I want another, with lots of ice, like an American! Like hers!” I felt my cheeks get hot and I laughed, holding my glass out for a clink once the bartender had set Louis’ down. “Cheers!” he said, holding out his other hand to shake mine, “I’m Lou.”
“Samantha, but call me Sam. Cheers!” I said, smiling way too broadly and taking his hand. I hope I looked calm because in my head was this craziness: I’MTOUCHINGLOUISI’MTOUCHINGLOUISI’MTOUCHINGLOUIS I’M.FUCKING.TOUCHING.LOUIS!!!!!!! I held onto his hand a beat too long then dropped it quickly, though I was reluctant to end the contact.
“Hey Samantha-but-call-me-Sam, you look familiar. Aren’t you the girl who nearly ran me over on the pavement today? Hasn’t anyone told you it’s dangerous to text and walk?” His smile was dazzling; he was even more beautiful up close and personal.
“I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed! “It’s only my second day in London and I was texting with a friend and trying to sort myself with my mobile’s gps.” I looked up at him from under my bangs a little coyly, “I did try to apologize, you know, but you seemed in quite the hurry in your big black car.” Oh my god, am I really teasing Louis Tomlinson? Am I flirting? Fuck yeah.
“No worries, and I’m sorry I did not stop to accept your apology at the time,” he said with exaggerated politeness. I was giggling, and completely captivated. And I was drinking too fast, but that didn’t stop me from ordering another, despite the raised eyebrow of the bartender. “Another for me too – vodka lime, LOTS OF ICE!” Louis chimed, rattling the ice in his glass gleefully. And suddenly we were chatting like old friends about the other inhabitants we had seen in the hotel, engaging the bartender to tell us tales of bad and wild behavior.
Louis finished his third and excused himself for a moment. I turned in my seat to watch him walk away and when I turned back around, the bartender was looking at me speculatively. I wasn’t going to give away anything about anything. This was too fun and I didn’t want to spoil it with stupid reality. “What?” I said, the three drinks making me feel a bit more aggressive than usual. He just shook his head with a small smile and walked to the other end of the bar.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and there was Louis, squeezing in between me and the previously empty barstool, my bare knees rubbing up against his torso. I turned in my chair to make room for him, and he sat, dragging his seat a little closer. Without taking his eyes off mine, he gestured for two more drinks and the bartender brought them quickly. We clinked glasses again, though his “Cheers,” was low and quiet, accompanied by a smile that could only mean one thing. Then he gestured with his hand for me to lean in. What was happening here? His mouth went to my ear; I could feel his razor stubble on my cheek and I was practically panting. I was sure he could hear my heart pounding.
He brushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “I’m Louis from One Direction.” He nipped at my earlobe and I heard my gold hoop earring click against his teeth.
I pulled back, breathing hard, looked at him for a second, and then put my lips to his ear, “I know,” I whispered back, grinning foolishly. I couldn’t stop myself from running my tongue down his neck, but he pushed me back, and stood up from his seat. Oh fuck, did I do something wrong? “Come on,” he said sharply, grabbing my hand.
“But our bar tabs…” I said, trying to gather my phone and purse. He waved his other hand in the direction of the bartender, saying nothing else. I looked back as Louis pulled me towards the entrance and the bartender waved us on with a small headshake and smile. “Must be nice being a big pop star.” “Yeah, or something,” he answered. “Are you walking me to my room?” We had established earlier that I was staying in the hotel.
“Uh no, you’re coming to mine,” he said, still pulling me, now towards the bank of elevators. Oh! Earlier he hadn’t said he was staying here too. We waited for the lift, and rapidly the courage of the alcohol wore off and I was nervous and fidgety. Soon enough, the doors opened, we stepped inside, and Louis pushed a button for a floor much higher than mine.
Before I could say a word, he faced me and pressed me against the back wall of the lift, pinning me there. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer as he tilted his head down to kiss. I felt his hips pushing against mine, and felt him hard against my belly as he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I moaned around it and gave him back mine, feeling his teeth against my lips, his lips on mine. I never wanted to stop kissing him.
A quiet ding indicated the lift was stopping at a floor and Louis glanced around quickly to see if it was his. It wasn’t, and an older couple stepped onto the elevator, looking at us curiously. Louis didn’t turn around, but kept his back to the door, hands on either side of my head. He mouthed to me, “Don’t say anything. Don’t say my name. Shhhhhh.” A wicked smile played across his face as he shifted his body slightly, pressing his obvious erection into me. I swallowed and smiled weakly at the lady who had turned to get a better look at us. “Hello,” I practically whimpered, fluttering my fingers at her. Louis turned his head to the left, making sure she didn’t get a look at his face. Luckily they were only traveling a couple of floors and got off quickly. Once they were gone, Louis pushed back off me, grabbed my hand again and pulled me towards the door as the lift opened on his floor.
We stepped out and he led me down the hallway to his rooms. Before we could get inside I heard the other lift door open and glanced back as Louis said, “Hey, Nige,” to a dark suited man. “Mr. Tomlinson,” the man replied, nodding. Ohhhhhh, security. Of course.
Once inside, Louis turned to me and smiled that ridiculous grin with the raised eybrow. “What are you waiting for?” I laughed, grabbing his belt buckle and pulling him in the direction I hoped was the bedroom. Still holding onto his buckle I hopped onto the bed and dragged him with me, but he pushed back and stood beside the bed looking at me a moment. I stared back, panting, wanting him to touch me. He reached for my right foot and unbuckled the ankle strap of my high wedge sandal, dropping it and then the other one to the floor. Biting his lip, he ran his hands up my bare legs, stopping just under the hem of my cuffed black shorts. His hands were hot on my skin and I squirmed, wanting more. He quickly unbuttoned and unzipped, and I raised my hips so he could slide them off. Next he hooked two fingers into either side of my panties and pulled them down my legs and off. Then he stepped between my legs and I felt completely exposed, though that didn’t stop my hips from pressing upwards, needing his touch. My heart was thumping in my throat so hard I didn’t think I could speak.
He leaned over me then, reaching for the hem of my loose tee and pulled it over my head leaving me in nothing but my bra. I felt his jeans against my bare sex and I groaned and pulled his face down to mine for a deep kiss, our tongues fighting for space. I kissed his jaw, and down his neck, taking little nips, making him moan low in this throat, all the while fumbling at his waist trying to undo belt and zipper. “Take off those fucking skinny jeans now,” I demanded. Louis laughed and stood up, kicked off his shoes and pulled his jeans and boxer briefs off in one gesture. I was already tugging his tee over his head and I sat back, on my heels to drink in the sight of this beautiful naked man in front of me. “You are SO naked,” I smiled, licking my lips. “You are so NOT naked,” he exclaimed, and jumped onto the bed, flicking open the front closure of my bra with ease. I shrugged it off my shoulders and tossed it aside and scrambled to lie properly on the bed, my head on the expansive pile of pillows. Louis followed, straddling my body for a moment before pushing my legs apart and kneeling there. He leaned over again for a slow deep kiss, my hips grinding into his as our tongues explored and fought. I bit at his bottom lip and felt his cock twitch against me.
He broke the kiss and made his way down my neck, laying little kisses and licks as he went. My hands were in his hair and roaming his body wherever I could reach, feeling his muscles tighten and tense as he moved. His lips closed around one nipple and then the other, both already hard from anticipation, and I arched my back against him., whimpering for more. As he shifted his body around mine, I ran my hand down his muscled belly, feeling the little trail of soft curly hair. I gently grasped his hard cock and he exhaled sharply, I move my hand up and down his length, trailing my fingertips over the head and feeling the moisture already there. He gasped when I spread the slippery liquid with my thumb, teasing the underside, sliding my thumb to the base, then cupping his balls. He groaned and kissed me hard again, forcing my lips and teeth apart, shoving his tongue in my mouth, straining against my hand. He ran the flat of his hand down my body, my skin tingling at his touch, my hips jutting up to meet it.
His hand curved down over my pussy and his middle finger dove into the wetness, circling my clit, making me scream around his kisses. I slightly tightened my grip on his cock, but he muttered, “Uh uh,” and I reluctantly let go as he continued the pressure on me, taking me to the edge. He stopped moving his finger, raised up from the kiss and looked at me intently. I whimpered, pressing my hips up against his hand, and he started circling again, watching my face. I couldn’t hold back any longer and I squeezed my eyes. My thighs tightened around his hand and I came violently, shuddering.
I opened my eyes to Louis’ face close to mine, his eyes shining. “Fuck me, Louis, please. Now,” I mumbled, his cock inside me before I even finished the word. I pulled him close and moaned into his neck and shoulders as he moved inside me. Our hips mashed together again and again, then I felt his body stiffen and he shouted, pushing into me harder and holding himself fully inside. I felt his cock twitching, and he gasped one last time, then collapsed against me, his head buried in my neck.
I hooked my leg over his and ran my nails lightly down his back until I got to the curve of his ass. Louis’ famous ass was in my hands and I couldn’t get enough of it. He snuggled into me, a muffled “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” vibrating against my neck. I kissed the top of his head and kept my lips pressed there.
I opened my eyes to morning sunlight, and looked around in a panic without moving. I wasn’t even used to my hotel room yet, let alone this one. I fought through a bit of hangover fuzz and smiled to myself, turning my head to see…no one. I sat up rapidly, clutching a pillow to cover myself and called out, “Louis?” He appeared a moment later, freshly showered and half dressed, a wry smile on his lips. “Good morning, Samatha-but-call-me-Sam. Nothing like waking up with a naked girl in my bed!”
Wow, thanks for making me so completely aware of our clothing differentials, Lou! “Um, I should get dressed and get out of here. I didn’t mean to fall asleep last night,” I stuttered as I peered over the edge of the bed, trying to locate my clothes.
“What are you talking about? Of course I wanted you to stay the night. I’m sorry for passing out early. We’ve been working so hard with so little down time, and well, you really relaxed me. I was shattered,” he grinned, sitting on the bed next to me. He tipped up my chin and planted a sweet kiss on my lips. “Now, I have to get to the studio. Again. But I want you to take your time, have a shower, have some breakfast. This suite has a kitchen and it’s stocked with just about anything you need. Or order room service!”
“Are you sure? I can just…” he stopped me with another kiss. “I’m sure. Nigel will be in the front room and will make sure you get back to your room, whenever you are ready, with a minimum of fuss. Sometimes the paps make it into the hotel and…” he trailed off, looking a little forlorn.
“Louis, I totally understand,” I smiled, tousling his damp hair. “So that’s what that famous hair looks like right out of the shower.”
“Where’s your phone?” he asked, pulling his out of his jeans pocket. “Give it to me.” I reached into my purse that somehow managed to land on the beside table and handed it to him. He looked at it a moment, found the app, took of picture of himself, and typed something and handed it back. “Smile!” he shouted, snapping a photo. Seconds later, my phone rang, Louis’ face smiling at me on the screen. “Hello! Goodbye!” he shouted. Was this really happening?
“I have to go,” he frowned, pulling a striped tee (of course!) over his head and walking towards the door. “I’ll call you, all right?”
“Yeah, of course. I hope it goes well in the studio today.” I was biting my lip, feeling awkward, until he stepped back in, entwined his fingers in my hair, and gave me a long, sweet kiss. “Bye, Sam.”