Lawrence’s parents — her dad owned a construction business; the two now run a summer day camp-were initially less than thrilled with their daughter’s decision to become an actress.
When Lawrence was 14, she persuaded them to let her spend the summer in New York City going on auditions. As summer came to an end, her parents wanted her to come back home already. In the midst of their arguments, Lawrence happened to see a newspaper story about a boy from Kentucky starring in a new movie called Little Manhattan. “I was like, ‘Look, see? He’s from Kentucky and he made it’ I can do it too!’ And, weirdly, it helped them accept that this is what I wanted to do.”
That boy was Josh Hutcherson. In a nifty twist of fate, he’ll play Peeta, Lawrence’s favorite character from the Hunger Games trilogy.
(Jennifer in the EW Hunger Games issue)
I just asked my baby cousin what he wanted for Christmas and he said “COAL!!!!!!” And I was like “now why on earth would you want coal?” And he just smiled and said “Because it turns into diamonds” and that is the most optimistic thing I’ve ever heard in my life
Jean-Paul Gaultier Haute Couture Spring/Summer 2007
YO, I GOT SOME TIPS FOR ALL THE MISERABLE LADIES!
(and hell fucking yes i used to be one)
- try getting ready in the morning wearing only the underwear you look the best in (only buy underwear you feel the best in) or get ready naked. it’s like a scientifically proven fact that all boobs are amazing, and i’ve discovered there’s this weird victoria’s secret angel switch that gets flipped when you’re nude putting on makeup or brushing your hair. you just look like a fox.
- don’t be scared to do things you’re really good at in front of people (they want to see) and don’t be scared to talk about how good you are at things (there is a difference between arrogance and confidence, and we’ve been told repeatedly that being proud of ourselves is cocky and unattractive: FUCK THAT, WE’RE JUST THE SHIT, WE CAN’T HELP IT)
- in recent years i’ve discovered that i’m super hot. you also happen to be super hot. i think “super hot” is a combination of attractive, unique, and comfortable. it just took me a long time to learn how to make myself feel and look super hot, learn what you need to do to make yourself realize you’re super hot, and do that. (if you think i’m an idiot and i’m just telling your to put on tons of makeup, read the next bullet)
- make yourself feel pretty. makeup is not a bad thing. no, you don’t need it. no, you don’t have to have it to be “super hot.” but the coolest thing about it is that it’s a useful tool for shaping your hotness into exactly what you’d like to show to the world, and that’s badass. it’s okay if you aren’t born looking the way you feel inside, cause you have the power to tweak. that also goes for your hair, your clothes, etc. for example, do you think your head looks like a penis when your hair is short? grow it out. do you absolutely love when your head looks like a penis? THEN FUCK YEAH KEEP IT THAT WAY
- be honest as much as you possibly can. to yourself, be honest all the time. if you find you are having a really hard time telling certain people the truth, then maybe they are the wrong people for you. do you trust them? do they make you feel bad about yourself? NAH DUDE FUCK THAT
- if you are uncomfortable, you are instantly not super hot. i don’t mean like if you are wearing shoes you love and they hurt your feet. i mean, if you’re shaving your legs every single fucking day and you hate it but you don’t want anyone to say anything. instead, you should only shave your legs so you can feel the pleasure of your smooth legs against the sheets. or because YOU like them shiny when you’re at the beach. and if you like your legs hairy, don’t shave them! only change yourself if to YOU, that is super hot.
- masturbate all the time. that is all.
- the only person that deserves anyone as super hot as you, is a person that knows they are super hot. and a person that realizes you and fawns in the glorious light that is your super hotness.
- don’t go to work if you have nightmares about it. quit and get a new job. you maybe probably aren’t going to love it (hey, maybe you WILL), because it’s work. but if it is affecting your well-being to the point of suffocation then quit. there are tons of shitty jobs that are less shitty than that one.
- you really need to have a catalog of things that you know make you feel better. you will come across these things slowly and randomly. but remember them, and practice them when you feel shitty. you’re going to feel shitty, so be stocked up on plenty of antidotes.
- hurting yourself is so fucking not okay. i cut myself and all i got were these lousy scars. i starved myself and my pretty hair fell out and my brain was all fucked every time i ate anything for years. i tried to kill myself and had to stay in a mental hospital for the most miserable, depressing, loneliest week of my life. i drank myself into a stupor for a couple of months straight and all it did was hinder me learning how to actually help myself and solve my own mental issues. stop all that shit, and start figuring out how to love and how to feel better and how to be badass when you’re all alone and how to feel super hot.
Everyone still needs this
This is my son, Chester, who is nearly 4. He was invited to his friend Chloe’s birthday party today, the theme was prince and princesses. He asked if he could go as Sleeping Beauty, so I bought him a dress and put a cute little clip in his hair.
We arrived at the party to the following comments from the adults present:
“Oh that is just cruel.”
"Why did you make him wear a dress?"
"Poor little man, what’s your mummy playing at?"
"He’s going to hate you when he grows up."
"No way I’d let my son dress like a girl."
The fact is, Chester is almost completely gender neutral. I let him wear what he wants, be it boys or girls clothes, and he plays with whatever toys he likes. This usually involves him holding tea parties while wearing his pink Minnie Mouse top, jeans and a tiara. The guests are more often than not a mixture of Winnie The Pooh characters, dinosaurs, Barbie, Dora and solders, and they’re usually transported in his favorite fire engine.
When my husband arrived at the party later on, he was subjected to endless ridicule from the other dad’s present about how I must keep his balls in my back pocket because otherwise he would have put his foot down and not allowed Chester out like that. Oh, and by the way, our other son dressed as Ariel. When my husband pointed out that the boys were happy, and the mother of the birthday child made a point of saying how wonderful she thought it was that we allowed them freedom of choice and expression, they then stopped talking about it to our faces and started muttering about us behind our backs.
Interestingly enough, not a single child said a word about their choice of costumes, other than to compliment Chester on his new dress.