If the scent of a fresh ombre dye job, yoga-induced B.O., veganism and a level of hotness that refuses to give ladyparts a damn break wafted through the air just now, it’s the spirit of Hot Hobo Jesus.
Jared Leto can cut his hair, dye it bright pink or Joker green, embrace the rock star mohawk, or shave that shit off entirely and he’ll still be HHJ to me. And I will forever ship him with Lupita Nyong’o because the Lupeto magic of the 2014 awards season will never die. Hell, if they decide to get together, pop out a few babies and live happily ever after, you may see my ass back here for a good, old fashioned fangirl flail via keyboard.
Onto the objectification, all courtesy of Jared’s Instagram account.
I’m at a place in my personal fitness (fatness?) where all jeans are mom jeans. Pocket size and placement doesn’t matter. When you’re shaped like the cushions from a busted love seat someone with high hopes and terrible taste in home decor is trying to unload at a garage sale from the back (and can only cry in so many fitting rooms before dehydration sets in), you learn to embrace ass-covering tops instead of questing to find the perfect jeans. When you’re shaped like Sophia Bush, the search for jeans turns purposely mom and becomes Instagram-able.
Sophia has been on my girl crush list ever since I started watching Chicago P.D. Much like Jeffrey Dean Morgan yesterday, her dimples are worthy of some tent-pitching. Throw in the rest of the beauty, the charitable heart and the raspy voice and we have some eye and ear candy on our hands.
This morning, we’re paying homage to Arrow‘s Colton Haynes. I haven’t written about him much. Back in August 2014, he live-tweeted a tragically awkward date from a few tables over. It was everything I’ve always wanted in a voyeuristic indictment of the sad state of today’s dating affairs posted on social media. Colton was back in the news in January of this year after he commented on a Tumblr post about his “secret gay past” with, “Was it a secret?” It was as low-key a sorta-public coming out as I’ve seen from a celebrity.
Now Colton is expanding on his one-liner spoken from the doorway of the closet. In a new interview, he told Entertainment Weekly that panicked when the media celebrated his offhand comment as an official announcement and says he spent the last few months working toward addressing it with a few hospitalizations for anxiety thrown in the mix.
“It was a complete shock. I wasn’t ready to be back in the headlines. I should have made a comment or a statement, but I just wasn’t ready. I didn’t feel like I owed anyone anything. I think in due time, everyone has to make those decisions when they’re ready, and I wasn’t yet. But I felt like I was letting people down by not coming forward with the rest of what I should have said.”
“People want you to be that GQ image that you put out, but people don’t realize what it’s like to act 24 hours a day. I’d go home and I was still acting. People who are so judgmental about those who are gay or different don’t realize that acting 24 hours a day is the most exhausting thing in the world.”
I’m all about people living that authentic life. He didn’t owe the general public a concrete confirmation, but if it eases the burden of having to be “on” (and in) while he lives his day-to-day life, more power to Colton for taking that step for himself. As a celebration of his newfound measure of freedom, here is your morning eye candy in all of it’s weird, wonderful, winning Halloween glory.
Imagine Chelsea Handler walking into a Known Attention Whores meeting (it can’t be anonymous by design) and watching her go up to the mic. She pretends it’s a phallus, humps the air a little bit, then announces, “Hi, I’m Chelsea. It’s been a scant two weeks since the last time I posted a completely unnecessary photo of my tits or ass on the Internet, and I’ve fallen off the wagon. I sent another nude selfie Instagram upload to a friend for their birthday.”
Maria Sharapova was the guest of honor at Chelsea’s latest social media self-absorption affair. I know it’s 420, but you may want to bypass the bake sale in order to inject heroin straight into your eyeballs.
The next time you look at your bank account, look at your spouse, look back at your back account, divide that depressing shit by two, then look back at your spouse and decide it’s easier to just start praying for an early death, remember even the rich and famous stick it out in bad situations. Jennifer Lopez told W magazine she knew almost immediately after marrying Marc Anthony that it was a mistake.
“I’ve been in the grind and the game for a long time. At a certain point, people respect you when they see you fall down and get back up. The more you’re in this life, the more they celebrate your triumphs. When it comes to work, I never get tired. But with personal failures, I have thought, This is too hard.”
“When my marriage ended, it was not easy to find forgiveness. It wasn’t the dream that I had hoped for, and it would have been easier to fan the flames of resentment, disappointment and anger. But Marc is the father of my children, and that’s never going away. So I have to work to make things right. And that is, by far, the hardest work I do.”
“I hung in there for seven years. I knew very quickly that it wasn’t the right thing.”
There’s an argument to be made here about the merits of half-assing things. JLo whole assed her professional life, leaving her potentially vulnerable when it comes to recognizing impending fuckery and dodging it in her personal life. I’d imagine at the time, pushing the bad parts aside in order to try and make things work with someone she loved and popping out a couple of kids was worth it. Now, she has her kiddos, the career, more power and agency in her relationship, gets slung some younger dick on the regular and doesn’t have to watch Marc climaxing over her anymore. Win-win with a few good life lessons tossed in for good measure.