allie

adoringbeyonce:

yivialo:

LMFAO

LMFAOOOO This makes this 1000x better!

Homelessness in America

This is the fourth in a five-part series about homelessness, mental health, addiction, and family. (Here’s Part I, Part II, and Part III.)

“I was walking home from work once with my backpack and someone shouted at me, ‘GET A JOB!’” Jay said. “I had a job. I just didn’t have a home. I lived with my partner for 17 years. We made a lot of money, so I lived very, very comfortably. That was until three years ago, when that relationship ended, and I decided to be ‘free.’ Of course, I didn’t really expect that to mean I would lose my apartment, my car, my job. Everything can come and go. You know, it’s a crazy world out here. I wasn’t ready for it I guess.

When I met my new partner, I knew he was homeless. I said, ‘Poor thing.’ He said, ‘I’m not poor, I’m free.’ He said, ‘You need to come and live with me,’ which was under a parking lot in lower Queen Anne. He made me take off my shoes when I went in there. I remember there was a Starbucks near there and we would go in there and the girl behind the counter was kind of tense. After three or four days, we started being dirty. Our hair got ratty. She didn’t even respond to us when we said hello. People moved away from us. I remember walking down the street with him that day, with our big backpacks, and thinking, ‘Everyone’s trying to ignore us. We’re invisible.’”

“I used to work in the carnival,” Gary said. He had a bad limp. “Until I got shot.”

“Got lucky,” he said. “The guy had a .357 magnum. But the guy who shot me had been at the range that morning, used up all his .357 ammo. So I got shot with a .22. They had me on the table, all naked, all cut up, and I told them, ‘Take that sock off me,’ and they said, ‘there’s no sock on you.’ Haven’t been able to walk right since.”

“Anyway,” he said. “Worked for the carnival for a while. A ride called the Electric Slide.” He’d been to all fifty states, hitchhiking mostly. He was also a Vietnam veteran. “It’s no good anymore,” he said. “Used to be you could hitchhike where-ever you wanted to go. Now, everyone’s doin’ this,” He looked down at his hands, and mimicked typing on a phone. “I’m crazy,” he said, “But that’s crazy.” He laughed. “Nah. I’m just waitin for the Lord to take me to be honest with you,” he said.

Nearby, in the tent city was a man called John. He worked for forty years, on boats, in shops, on lines. His hands were calloused. He didn’t stand much. Like Gary, he couldn’t really walk anymore. “Built my own bed,” he said. He leaned and pointed to it. It was a box and a mattress. I didn’t know it wasn’t a proper bed. “It’s made out of a life raft someone threw out,” he said. “They said it was garbage, but I used to work with those so I just worked it a bit and it’s a real bed now.”

“Worked my whole life, didn’t ask for anything,” he said. “Trying to get benefits now, but I absolutely hate it. Good with this and these,” he said, pointing to his head and his hands. “No good with forms and offices.”

South of the International District, there was an extensive hidden encampment called the Jungle. “Full of killing and murders and stabbings and mother rapers,” one man told me. “Father-rapers and mother-stabbers!” I went close, but not too close, and ended up encountering a Chinese New Year parade with dragons and drums. Underneath an overpass, three homeless men came out of tents and danced wildly to the drum music, gesturing and dancing around.

Other people walked by as if they didn’t see the dragons, as if they didn’t hear the drums, and two days later, the city sent police and machines to bulldoze the tents where the dancing men lived.

I spoke to a religion professor, and I asked him to explain to me why there were so many homeless people. He said it was a result of the system (he was a communist). He said that the system was there to make us consume and produce. The system seemed wonderful. It produced so many things. It was so fantastic that it had produced machines that made us obsolete, so there were no jobs anymore. It was unsatisfied with the extra people with no jobs, and so it was making ways to hide them. In tent cities, in jails, in cracks in the street. These were extra people. Surplus population, he said. They were useless to the system.

He taught philosophy in a women’s prison. Some of the people he educated will never be free again. Seventy percent, he said, report that they were sexually abused before they even reached prison. They belonged in hospitals, he said, not in prison.

My sister and I went to the grocery store and there was a machine that checked us out. Where there used to be 15 people scanning items, now there was one person, whose job it is to work with the machine. When my sister saw this, she started punching all the buttons on the machine. She made it speak Spanish, she turned the volume up to ten. She made it say “Hola! Hola! Hola!” over and over again.

My sister has a Master’s degree in Public Administration somewhere in storage. She has a piss bottle in her van that she knocked over. Sometimes, if there isn’t anywhere open, she shits outside.

There will only be more homeless people in the future, the professor said. More and more people will find themselves unable or unwilling to go along with the program. They too will be surplus, and society will eventually look for a place to store them, like refugee camps, or prisons, because they will become numerous and it will become a big problem.

The city was full of do-gooders. I walked around Seattle for a long time. Every so often, I was bothered by someone asking for money to help the bees, or to guarantee that people could get abortions. One girl in a bright red hat stopped me, and said she was working with Doctors Without Borders. She said she had worked with them in Rwanda. The fields were so green there, she said. The dirt was so red. She asked me what I knew about Doctors Without Borders. I told her. She asked what I was doing in Seattle, and I told her I was learning about homelessness.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s a big problem. But still,” she said. “We have to keep in mind that we in America have it good. We don’t have the problems that a lot of other countries have.”

I stood there, listening. Mentally ill people wandered beneath skyscrapers next to people collecting money for bees. That was a particular bit of insanity you didn’t find even in the third world. She saw the look on my face.

“I guess it’s still hard, though,” she said. “Living on the street.”

A woman walked past then, just at that second, a crazy lady, with wild hair. She shouted at us, getting close. “YEAH!” she shouted. “IT FUCKING IS.”

People become homeless because of a tiny problem that gets them at the wrong time. It is a refugee crisis in slow motion. There was no one catastrophe, but millions of quiet disasters. So far, these small problems haven’t added up in our minds. It is easy to ignore until it is your sister or your daughter or your friend, and then you can’t ignore it anymore.

Devyn, who was six, lived with his mom and dad in a tiny house in the Ballard homeless camp. Inside the house was a mat for sleeping, and a shelf messily stuffed with clothes. On the ground, there was a Curious George book. Most of the floor of the shack was covered with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles mat.

Devyn was born prematurely while his mom Des was working at McDonalds. His dad, Matt, who was a manager at Burger King at the time, couldn’t get time off, so Des took care of him on her own, even though she had an emergency C-section. I walked with him and his mom to a Christian bookstore where they gave out free coffee. He told me that when he grows up, he wants to be Noah’s Ark. “You mean Noah, right?” his mom said.

“No,” Devyn corrected her. The Ark itself. Then he grabbed my sleeve and whispered to me. “Fairy tale!”

Everyone in the tent city said how sharp Devyn was. He ran around with a garbage picker claw and called it a Terminator arm. He built rat traps. He had a blaster that sent you to a different dimension if it hit you.

“I blasted you!” he shouted, running around the tents. “Now you’re in the seventh dimensiary. Now I’m gonna zap you into the seventy-seventh dimensiary!”

Des came from North Dakota. She was Native American. She had a tattoo with a feather, because everyone kept mistaking her for Mexican. Matt, Devyn’s father, was from Minnesota. They were both on medication. Des was afraid she was diabetic. She was too scared to go to the doctor. Her mother and grandmother were both diabetic. She said it runs in her blood.

Devyn aimed the blaster, then lowered it. He walked over to me, considering whether to blast me or not.

“I like to think about such things as dimensions,” he said. “This planet is not the only thing that has living life. Planets have aliens. Other planets do. We’re not the only planet in this solar system with living beings.”

You’d Have to be Crazy (Part IV) was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Read the responses to this story on Medium.

Make sure your skirt is comfortably below your knees and your polo collar isn't popped around your neck, or else get ready to feel the wrath of The Nun. New Line announced today that following the ample box office success of the supernatural-horror film The Conjuring 2, a spinoff centered around a demonic nun is moving forward in development. With the current working title of The Nun, David Leslie Johnson, who co-wrote The Conjuring 2, has been hired to write the script, with James Wan and Peter Safran, who respectively directed and produced both Conjuring films, expected to produce the spinoff. This will be the second Conjuring spinoff, following 2014's Annabelle. (Interestingly, The Hollywood Reporter notes that the nun's character wasn't originally in the script of The Conjuring 2, and was only added three months before the film's opening.) Those paranormal investigators better practice their Hail Marys.

mortalityplays:

• knowing when your friend is out of the house, because their phone capitalises their messages
• noticing they’re down because that was the wrong emoticon
• lol vs lmao vs hahaha vs ahaha
  
• subtly wrapping your schedule around the edges of timezones on the other side of the world
• conversations that play out over a week because you’re both perpetually idle but you want to know how they’re doing
• not being able to wake up for an alarm, but leaping halfway across the house for the message alert you’ve been waiting for
  
• talking to the same person about different topics in three conversations simultaneously
• knowing when your friends have been spending time together because they start to type alike 
• watching them start and stop typing over and over and not interrupting, because this must be important
  

Being queer and Latinx in the U.S. sometimes feels like it can be impossible to find our people. Now tragedy has found us.

weirdbuzzfeed:

I can’t believe the Blue Man Group straight-up murdered one of our employees.

RIP in peace, Tom. You will be missed.

Upon hearing that all three of my sisters live in New York and that we're all close, people will sometimes say, "Wow, you guys should have a show." They’re right, by the way. We are funny and smart and pretty and ineffably petty. Thankfully, there’s already a sisterhood out there that exists for public consumption.

Like us, they live in the same city and see each other way too often. Like us, there is a shady one, a sweet one, a tired one, and the young ones. Like us, they hang out with each other an awful lot, though our reasoning for this because we like each other enough and not because we’re so famous that we can’t trust anyone other than our family. Like us, they love each other very, very much — but are reluctant to say it out loud.

They live in Calabasas and have more money than I will ever touch in my life. We live in Brooklyn and we get by. But, the similarities are incontrovertible. The Kardashians embody the ride or die ethos that we strive for. It’s evident in their every move. When Rob started to try it in those early months before we knew who Angela Renee Kardashian was, his sister Khloe posted a picture of all the sisters, minus Kylie and Kendall and plus Larsa Pippen, captioned "Never go against THE family. I love Yeezy’s studio speeches!" More than a subtweet but less than just calling him out, I understood the impulse. Try as you might — there will be days when you try — family is the one bond you do not break.

Never go against THE Family. I love Yeezy's studio speeches!!

A photo posted by Khloé (@khloekardashian) on Jan 26, 2016 at 11:24pm PST

While I’ve never felt the need to defend my sisters on social media, I know that the way I feel about them would inspire the same kind of Instagram stunting if I felt like our family — or one of them — were being threatened. I’ve learned nothing substantive about the Kardashian-Jenner sisters from the show, love it as I do. Everything the Kardashians have taught me about being a good sister come from Snapchat.

If you buy into any part of the Kardashians’ multi-tentacled empire, ignore the games and the lip kits and Kylie’s fondness for shilling detox tea on Instagram. Their snapchat is the treasure trove of unfiltered performative sisterhood and family. Even if you think they’re overexposed fame grubbers who rose to the top thanks to Kris Jenner's witchcraft, watching Kim snap pictures of Saint’s feet clad in tiny custom Yeezys or Kourtney and Khloe running through brutal workouts together in the bright California sun will change your mind.

Though the sisters K are individual brands, each one tailored to appeal as specifically as possible to the largest swath of consumers, but watching Kourtney make eggs for Kylie while speaking in a bad British accent or hearing Khloe call Kourtney a "fucktard" while they argue about starting their workout while Kylie texts in silence reminds you that yes, they are sisters first.

A video posted by Kourtney's Snapchat (@kourtneysnapchat) on May 20, 2016 at 5:43pm PDT

Their Instagram feeds are nothing more than a wasteland for selfies too similar to each other that they all feel the same and the occasional photo of North West. Watching the Kardashians’ discover Snapchat has been a true joy. There’s little doubt that each sister has a social media manager or at the very least a Snapchat helper that holds the camera while the glam squad flatirons endless yards of straight, shiny hair. But, the content is still fresh and unfiltered. As Jenna Wortham wrote in the New York Times, "Snapchat isn’t the place you go to be pretty. It’s the where you go to be yourself." If the Kardashians work the back channels hard enough, I’m sure Snapchat would provide them with something that lets them control the narrative, but for now, the medium still feels fresh.

Between the games and the apps where you can watch Kourtney eat a Kit-Kat like a woman unwilling to allow herself pleasure, it’s easy to forget that the Kardashians are real people. The amount of attention paid to their every move is on par with the attention paid by British gossip rags to a random marchioness who lost her top in Ibiza. But, social media is a tool for honing the performance of being yourself. An Instagrammed sunset or your feet against some particularly pretty tile is more than just a picture; it’s a calculated move in the personal branding long game. The Kardashians have learned this trick and used it to their advantage. And, like the Kardashians, the way I choose to use my feeds is informed by this thinking, whether I am willing to admit it or not.

My sisters and I don’t have millions of followers who hang on our every move. We have not built a cottage industry around merely existing with the intention of promoting ourselves as a brand. But, when we went on vacation to Miami last year for the first time in our adult lives without parents, we blew up the feed and created a hashtag for our vacation. Every time we find ourselves together and the lighting is particularly pleasant and at least one of us is feeling our look, we pose and grin for Snapchat as if we had legions of fans, not just a handful of people who see our interactions and scroll quickly past them. Despite the evident differences, we see similarities just the same.

A video posted by Kylie Jenner Snapchats (@kylizzlesnapchats) on May 21, 2016 at 6:57am PDT

When I asked my sisters about which Kardashian they self-identify with, the Kourtney refused to be identified by name. Kim gladly offered both her services as a source and her full name. The youngest sister — a Kendall and Kylie hybrid — took her time to respond. As the Khloe of my group, I already knew my place. It feels redundant to impose boundaries on a group that already exists with clear cut roles. But, as the BuzzFeed quiz boomlet of the early 2010s proved, human beings love categorization. Every generation has its pop culture tropes — images of people onto which you can neatly map out your identity. Any woman knows whether or not she’s a Miranda or a Carrie, a Jo or a Meg, a Michelle Williams or a Kelly Rowland. The Kardashians fulfill this need to find a suitable pop culture paring, but for sisters. It’s a need that I didn’t think existed until I realized that they are actually my best friends, whether I like it or not.

The sister group text that lives on my phone is almost always lit. It is our safe space in which to share valuable information like new jobs, updates on our mother, closeups of photos of each other that we’ve taken in secret and screenshots from Snapchats that we’ve only sent to each other. It is sacred. Between this text, the contents of which will never see the light of day, and our fondness for clogging the feeds of our followers with pictures of each other and Snaps of each other giggling and loving and acting like morons, without shame, our sisterhood is performed.

A video posted by Kim Kardashian Snapchats (@kimmysnapchats) on Mar 30, 2016 at 6:22pm PDT

What sticks out the most about the way the Kardashians use Snapchat is how much they truly like each other. They hang out. They tease each other and yell. It’s nice to see sisters who care about each other as much as I mostly do about mine, but really, it’s refreshing to see the Kardashians acting like human beings. Snapchat humanizes them, scrapes away some of the sheen with a fingernail and reveals the regular skin underneath. At the end of the day, after the Lumee is turned off and the glam team has gone to bed, they’re just family.

“Jessica Jones” star Krysten Ritter attends the 2016 Glamour Women of the Year Awards at Berkeley Square in London.

Sometimes, a lady’s gotta stand up and say “This is my color. All other bitches need to step off.” Now, red isn’t exactly the toughest color to pull off, but when it comes to vibrant cherry, tomato or fire engine reds, Miss Krysten should, by rights, always get first pick. She may not own this color but she’s leased it for the time being.

We say all this because she looks gorgeous – and we don’t even find the dress all that interesting. It’s all about the fact that bright reds look amazing with her Snow White coloring. As long as she’s sporting this shade, it mostly doesn’t matter what the outfit looks like.

Are we wrong to think pointy-toed metallic pumps were not the way to go? A sandal would’ve been preferable.

Style Credits:
Julien MacDonald Red Lace Gown from the Spring 2016 Collection
Jimmy Choo Clutch
Kurt Geiger Metallic Pointed-Toe Shoes

[Photo Credit: Photoshot/PacificCoastNews, IMAXTree]

• Awards
• Glamour Women of the Year Awards
• Jessica Jones
• Jimmy Choo
• Julien MacDonald
• Kurt Geiger
• Red Carpet

The post Krysten Ritter in Julien MacDonald at the Glamour Women of the Year Awards 2016 appeared first on Tom + Lorenzo.

The other day I wrote about the mammal lounging on top of Billy Ray Cyrus’ dome, and I wondered if it sprouted from his own head or if he pulled it off of a shelf at a wig store in North Hollywood somewhere. After looking at these retina-burning pictures of Miley’s pawpaw at the CMT Music Awards in Nashville last night, it’s obvious that his hair is completely organic and he grew it himself, because no machine could ever create such a grand work of art! Sure, Billy Ray probably ran away from lit lighters and candles all night, but that’s not because he was wearing a highly flammable hairspray-covered rayon wig. But because the clouds of beauty wafting off of his hair are highly flammable and if they got close to a flame the entire joint would combust. That’s why.

But really, Billy Ray has taken his achy breaky beauty game to another level. That thing on his head looks like what Joyce DeWitt’s hair would look like if she discovered Bump-Its. It looks like butch Peg Bundy. It also looks like the wig an actress would wear if she was playing a wise-cracking, sassy 1960s waitress in a sitcom that shot in the 1980s. In other words, it is perfect. That beehive mullet is a party in the front AND a party in the back.

I know that only Billy Ray’s 8th world wonder wig matters, but I threw in pictures of Nicole Kidman and Oompa Loompa Keith too.

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Pics: Splash, Wenn.com

First Walnut Creek, with 12 more to follow

Dunkin' Donuts, which announced its first Bay Area location in February, is now ready to unleash it's beloved coffee drinks on Walnut Creek.

The grand opening will come sooner than the originally promised "end of summer" timeline, with a fancy ribbon cutting ceremony on Wednesday, June 22. There'll be lots of samples and giveaways, if you're into free stuff. After that the whole menu will be available, including the mysteriously addictive Coolattas®, iced coffees and smoothies. Oh, and doughnuts, there'll be plenty of doughnuts.

Franchisee Matt Cobo (formerly a Panera Bread franchisee, and owner of the Golden Gate Restaurant Group, LLC) has plans to open 12 more of the chain in Contra Costa County over the next few years. Although DD isn't exactly competing with the likes of Four Barrel, it's still insanely popular in a region awash in high-end beans— when the first location opened in Los Angeles, it drew long lines starting at 5 a.m.

Starting June 22, Dunkin' will be open seven days a week from 5:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. And, there's free wi-fi, so belly up for some remote working with sweet, sweet iced coffee in hand.

farahjasmin:

samjoonyuh:

Some days I feel like Beyoncé and some days I feel like Rihanna…

there are no in betweens

Since Donald Trump is officially probably going to be the Republican candidate for POTUS, expect to see every actor, comedian and famous trick do their own impersonation of him from now until the election ends, and even beyond that. Last night, it was 600-time Oscar winner Meryl Streep’s turn to smear Paprika all over her face and drop a dead ran-over guinea pig on top of her head to play Jabba the Trump.

Meryl played Trump and Christine Baranski played Hillary Clinton while singing a song together at the Public Theater Gala in Central Park in NYC. They sang Brush Up Your Shakespeare from the musical Kiss Me Kate. Clips ended up on Twitter:

More of Meryl and Christine Baranski doing Trump and HRC pic.twitter.com/t7jgNsf74d

— Jacob Bernstein (@BernsteinJacob) June 7, 2016

I’ll probably be jailed for saying this about the world’s greatest Thespian, but judging solely by that blurry video, I’m not getting Donald Trump. I’m getting accidental toilet baby of The Penguin and Jiminy Glick. You know, now that I think about it, Donald Trump IS the accidental toilet baby of The Penguin and Jiminy Glick. So Meryl nailed it! As for the look, I’m not really getting Donald Trump. I’m getting grown-up Augustus Gloop after Chester the Cheetah blew a giant Cheetos dust fart into his face. You know, now that I think about that too, Donald Trump IS a grown-up Augustus Gloop after Chester the Cheetah blew a giant Cheetos dust fart into his face. Meryl nailed it all around!

Christine Baranski, on the other hand…. Christine’s Hillary Clinton drag is very, “I’m Christine Fucking Baranski and I’m not going to wear a helmet hair wig and some baggy pantsuit!”

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Pics: Getty

If Charmed, Charlie’s Angeles and Wilson Phillips taught us anything, it’s that the power of 3 is unstoppable! So all of us peasants better spend our last few moments of freedom wearing color and smiling, because we’ll be banned from doing both of those things when the Trinity of Olsen Unholiness takes over the world. Half of us will be thrown into a factory where we’ll be forced to make our new overlords handmade cigarettes using French rolling papers, tobacco and the ashes of those who dared defy them! The other half of us will be thrown into a factory where we’ll be forced to hand-stitch panther hide caftans for our new leaders and their fellow evil-hearted rich friends. (I hope that whichever factory I’m thrown into, I’m assigned a spot next to Kimmy Gibbler so she can give me all the details of the Trollsens’ rise from cutesy toddlers to dictator gnomes.) When that happens, remember these pictures that served as a warning for the impending Olsen takeover!

At last night’s CFDA Awards in NYC, Elizabeth Olsen got sandwiched between Doom and Gloom as they all posed for pictures on the red carpet. Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen did themselves up like 1970s Santa Monica fortune tellers whose clients can always be seen going into their storefront but are never seen coming out. They did their sister/dark priestess-in-training up as an overgrown Ariana Grande Latte at a seance full of witches who buy all their clothes at White House|Black Market. What I’m trying to say is that the three of them together are more terrifying than the Macbeth witches!

But maybe there’s hope. In most of the pictures, Elizabeth Olsen is smiling and there’s a sparkle in her eye that I don’t think is from thinking about how she’s going to cackle into the night sky as she hears the pained cries of the mortals. I know, I’m trying to fool myself. She’s totally one of them now. I better learn how to sew.

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Pics: Splash, Wenn.com

After taking cheap shots at Madonna's Prince tribute at the Billboard Music Awards moments after it aired, BET has finally revealed how it plans to do better. The network announced today — Prince's birthday — that the BET Awards' big Prince tribute will officially include Sheila E., the Roots, D'Angelo, Janelle Monáe, and more. Madonna not a close enough confidant to the Purple One to honor his life? How about a longtime collaborator and one-time fiancée (Sheila E.), someone who witnessed Prince's final show (Janelle Monáe), the man who introduced said panned Madonna performance and then spent several tweets defending it (Questlove), and another who already delivered one of the best Prince tributes to date (D'Angelo)? Your move, Madonna.

undereyelouisvuittons:

Remembers literally none of the details, occasionally forgets the main characters name

Look at this scooter suitcase! Look how functional it is! The thing appears to have been reverse engineered for Jaden Smith, Will and Jada Smith's art project gone rogue. He's half teen, half alien, which makes him the perfect spokesman for an item that's half luggage, half toy. Jaden's exact suitcase costs $400 and is available from Micro, a kickboard brand, but Olaf makes a slightly cheaper version. Look at him go!

Look at him go back in December!

Look at him go again, back in March!

Look at him acknowledge his fans!

Every celebrity needs a signature status bag, and this is Jaden's. All the functionality of adulthood with all the fun of childhood! Wow!

Perhaps no MTV reality show has ever been as delightfully dramatic nor as transparently scripted as The Hills, except maybe the horrific dating show Next, which by now we've all agreed to forget ever happened. In light of the show's tenth anniversary  — the pilot premiered on May 31st, 2006! — its stars have finally admitted that much of the "drama," especially concerning their relationships, was the result of producer magic. The worst of these revelations? The love between Audrina and Justin Bobby, the show's Ross and Rachel, was actually a BIG LIE.

Even a decade later, it's impossible not to feel betrayed by the love stories we once cheered on and/or mocked. But one thing the stars of The Hills can never take away from us? The exquisitely 2000s outfits of Season 1, Episode 1. Here, we take a look at each and every denim capri pant, "going-out top," and candy pink lip gloss that graced those 30 minutes, in chronological order.

Lauren's "Wheeee, I'm moving to LA!" look

Never forget the days when long camisoles weren't tucked away into jeans, but instead placed precisely over our uteri. This was somehow supposed to make your stomach look flatter, I guess? Also, capri pants!

The Opening Credits

About as soon as Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten" begins to play, we get a peek at one of the most mid-aughts accessories of them all: the way-too-wide plastic headband. Excellent.

Sure, you can see her bra directly through her shirt while she's clearly in some kind of workplace, but more than that, can you believe Audrina was credited second?! Like, before Heidi?!

Whitney's before Heidi too, what?!

FINALLY. Here, Heidi Montag gives us a tiny peek at just one of her many, many going-out tops.

Heidi and Lauren's Hollywood condo

Heidi's totally casual, not-at-all-staged pool hang look involves shades that, while seemingly dated, were actually just a preview of the VR headsets to come in the following decade.

Swimsuit tops: ideal for pairing with frayed denim miniskirts.

In the episode's first definitely real plot twist, LC gets a call that her Teen Vogue interview isn't at 5 p.m. like she thought, but instead in 20 minutes! Oh no! With no time to spare, she irons her dress with a straightener. Candidate qualifications: resourceful.

The Teen Vogue offices

Does this anonymous Teen Vogue staffer have a statement necklace? Oh, you bet. Silky blouse? Check.

Teen Vogue's West Coast editor Lisa Love interviews LC, and it's basically The Devil Wears Prada, but for teens!

I was unable to watch this part of the show because it caused me to relive every terrible internship interview I've ever had. But I'm sure LC did great, despite the frontal hair pouf and larger-than-necessary amount of eyeliner.

Back at the condo

The first time we're introduced to Audrina, she's applying tanning oil. Feels fitting.

Here is the very first Hills instance in which the whole gang goes out to dinner and doesn't actually eat anything. This time, they're talking about how weird it is that some people have full-time jobs (reminder: the cast of The Hills are people who do not need jobs), which actually sounds really fun for someone who doesn't have a job.

Who's Brian, Jordan's roommate? Who's Jordan? Who cares! Lauren's putting on lip gloss at the dinner table where no one is eating.

Fashion school campus

Lauren meets with her advisor wearing a scarf-style headband. You are lying if you say you did not wear one of these in 2006. Her meeting went well.

Meanwhile, Heidi's did not. I take back everything I said about Lauren's Teen Vogue interview. This interaction between Heidi and her college advisor is the worst thing I have ever witnessed.

Casual Couch Hang Looks

Lauren accepts her Teen Vogue internship offer, yay! Heidi doesn't look like she's being supportive, but she is, because now she can get into fancy parties.

Back at Teen Vogue

It's Belt! I mean Whitney! My goodness, that belt is a lot.

Lauren went with khaki flares and a pastel military-style blazer.

Whoa, do you guys remember vests being a thing in 2006? I do not.

The Teen Vogue Young Hollywood Party

This just in: Nicole Richie has not aged in ten years.

Oh, you bet Paris Hilton was there too, wearing every single necklace in her closet and baby pigtails.

LC'S BUN. LC'S BUN!!!!

Is it just me, or did the producers always dress up Whitney as "the angelic one?"

What do you wear when you're showing up to a party uninvited, for the sole purpose of ruining your friend's career? THIS.

There has never been a more stressful moment in reality TV history than when Heidi, Audrina, and their man friends SAT DOWN ON THE VIP COUCHES THAT LC HAD SWORN TO PROTECT. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID I WANNA FORGIVE YOU AND I WANNA FORGET YOU ETC. ETC.

After Lauren inevitably gets in big trouble for letting Heidi et. al. sit in the fancy celebrity section, she's left alone, save for an anonymous lifeguard and her bun. As the camera pans out, it's assumed she weeps one theatrical mascara tear. Thus, The Hills was born.

tempestpaige:

cloudfreed:

crisnait:

floodlines:

SHUT THE FUCK UP

I’m girlfriend

THIS IS A FUCKIN HEIST MOVIE MY GOOODDD

this deserves an oscar

lisasterle:

tough week /// tough life

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Gwen Stefani and Blake Shelton performed their eyeroll-summoning duet “Go Ahead And Break My Heart” on the Billboard Music Awards last night. And when “she” came out, I figured that the real Gwen finally woke up from her dickmatized haze and pulled out of the performance at the last minute and so producers replaced her with a melting Donatella Versace wax figure, hoping that nobody would notice. But everyone noticed and many said the same thing that Saint West says to his au pair-in-waiting when either his mom or dad comes to visit him: “Who is she?”

Gwen dropped her usual red lipstick and black Sharpie eyeliner, and instead slapped every shade of sparkly beige paint onto her face, and finished the look off with a dusty ass eyebrow situation and one of Jennifer Lopez’s old dresses. The last time Gwen and Blake sang their heave-worthy duet, they really brought the cheese and laid it on thick. But last night, even they looked like they were over it and gave off the chemistry of a burnt-out match and a puddle of water. In almost every shot of Blake, it looks like he’s thinking to himself, “Harpo, who dis woman I’m singing with?”

And I really wasn’t into Gwen’s beige Barbie look until one of my friends texted me after the show and said she looked like Pete Burns in ~natural~ makeup. That made me sort of love Gwen’s look, because Pete Burns in ~natural~ makeup IS the look. But still, hillbilly dick should come with a warning, because it has the power to change your face!

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Pics: Wenn.com, Getty

Earlier this month, there was talk that Jay Z would be recording a follow-up/response album to Beyonce’s Lemonade. Then yesterday, we found out that they were maybe making a secret album together that may or may not be about Lemonade. In the meantime, Jay Z has gotten himself a little bit of attention by recording a song that mentions a certain refreshing lemon-based drink.

Last night, Jay Z released a remix of “All the Way Up” by Fat Joe and Remy Ma on Tidal. Seeing the words “by Fat Joe” in 2016 probably wouldn’t cause anymore than a low-energy shrug from most people. But everyone is talking about it today because Jay Z injected it with a potent dose of relevancy by rapping:

You know you made it
When the fact your marriage made it, is worth millions
Lemonade is a popular drink and it still is

You can listen to it here if you subscribe to Tidal. If not, then you can listen to a short clip of it at TMZ. Although you don’t exactly have to hear it with ears to know that “Lemonade is a popular drink and it still is” sounds like something that was written by an alien observing our species from the cold beverage aisle at Target.

Jay Z also might have doubled-down on the subtle stunt queening with what Entertainment Weekly thinks could be a vague-ish reference to Jay Z’s Met Gala elevator beat down by Solange. During a quick shout-out to Prince, whose catalogue is on Tidal, Jay Z says: “Prince left his masters where they safe and sound, we never gonna let the elevator take him down.” Usually I’d say that’s a bit of a stretch, but this Beyonce and Jay Z we’re talking about here. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a cut of him rapping “Let’s go crazy in love, party like it’s 2003, Bonnie and Clyde. Little red Corvette, Bey Bey you’re much too fast. Do you get that this is a reference to my wife yet?”

Pic: Splash

Today a judge decided that there is enough evidence to proceed with a sexual assault trial against Bill Cosby in Pennsylvania. If convicted, he faces up to 10 years in prison.

You’ll remember that Cosby is accused of drugging and violating an employee of Temple University, who, fitting with patterns described by literally dozens of women, considered him a mentor. While the trial is a hopeful sign for those of us who refuse to simply “forget these women“, it also feels a bit bittersweet for those of us who hold critiques of carceral politics, and have seen the devastating impacts of the criminal justice system on communities of color firsthand. And of course, there’s the usual fear that comes with any sexual assault case in America: that no matter the circumstances, victims tend to face an unjust measure of scrutiny and slut-shaming in their search for justice.

Breaking News in the Cosby rape trial: the woman Cosby raped is going to be put on trial.

— Jackie Peters (@JaxGotJokes) May 24, 2016

Lest you forget that we live in a victim-blaming society, and that no verdict is a given, consider that it took ten+ years, a male comedian lifting up dozens of women’s accounts, and a firsthand confession for people to pay attention to these claims to begin with. On top of that, the media regularly describes those who raise these allegations as “rude” or out of line, and people somehow still to this day claim his innocence. So while I hope the victim in this case and the rest of his victims receive some measure of justice, I’m unfortunately not holding my breath for justice anytime soon.