Everything costs more in Australia, AND our dollar is worth less than the American dollar.
No beef, huh?
And so I escaped through Hollywood. I immersed myself in books about the period; in one summer, I devoured countless biographies of Harlow, Garbo, Norma Shearer, Joan Crawford, Bogart and Bacall. Marilyn was my favorite, but I wasn’t picky.
In a world full of blurred lines, grey areas, and nefarious sluts, Jennifer Lawrence may seem like the beacon of hope for the self-obsessed, un-self aware, and self-indulgent Gen Y (and their evil minion underlings, generation Selfie).
Her voice is far from incredible, but you don’t listen to a Hilary Duff song with the hopes of hearing Mariah Carey-eque powerhouse vocals. Instead, you take it for what it is: positive, honest, danceable, and fun.
It’s important to remember that behind the mask of comedy was a man with children, with people he loved, a man who struggled, but most importantly, a man who lived.
It looks like something’s going on in his pants.
It seems the funnyman has become the butt of many jokes after posting a picture of man on the NY subway without realizing who the man actually was.
Last night, the producer of the Walton and Johnson radio show asked me to come on the air to talk about how I breastfeed my son Mason who is just now entering puberty.
First of all, the website domain is “preserve.us.” Not even a dot-com site. Already elitist.