#cuban doll icons

[coutureicons]

[classycookiexo]

THE TRAPGIRL ERA WAS A TIME 😩

Queen Key, Cuban Doll, Bali Baby, Rico Nasty, Molly Brazyyy, Asian Doll

I really wish that this era would have lasted longer so that the girls could have left a bigger mark and maybe a couple of them could have went a bit further in the industry

ICONIC

This moment of rap girlies was fun and interesting lol

[slutouttanowhere]

Randy Orton x Black!oc x LA Knight

a/n: I hope y’all enjoy this short chapter, if you haven’t read the previous chapters I have a master list linked in my pinned post. Reblogs are very much appreciated, and follow me for more.

Chapter 6

Friday Night SmackDown– 7:30 pm

I sat in the makeup chair getting my finishing touches, something about tonight was different. There was a buzz in the atmosphere that was incomparable to anything I’ve ever experienced. “How ya doin pretty lady?” I looked up from my phone to see Shaun headed in my direction, his lips curling into a gentle smile upon meeting my gaze. My hands reached out for his, we laced our fingers together, and leaned in for a kiss. He was aiming for my cheek, but I turned at the last second to meet his lips. Seemingly shocked by my actions, he looked around the busy hallways to see who had seen us, and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Yes I just kissed you in front of everyone.” I stood up from my chair, and threw my arms lazily around his neck. He had already changed out of his street clothes and into his wrestling shorts. His iconic “Who’s Game Is It?” The T-shirt had the sleeve cut off to expose his thick, muscular arms. His hair cut was fresh, and his Cuban link was glistening.

“So we’re public now? Just like that? I mean are you okay with that because if you’re not okay with that then we don’t have to–

I planted a kiss on his lips as he started to ramble, truth be told I was nervous about it, but I woke up in the mood to take a leap of faith. Besides, if it ends up blowing up in my face, at least I can say we had fun before the wheels fell off. “Maybe not internet public, I mean…the media is gonna have its assumptions, but I want us to do things at our own pace on our own terms ya know?” My hands slid down his chest as he pulled me in by the waist, out the corner of my eye I caught Austin’s lingering gaze. Grayson was talking his ears off about something, but I’m sure the Georgia peach wasn’t listening. I’m sure the new locker room gossip will be how LA Knight won the prize, and if there’s anything I learned from years of being in this business is that the boys are definitely more chatty than us girls. Especially when egos are involved.

“I’m down with whatever you are doll face.” He grinned, his usual charm turned back on, it wasn’t long before our moment was ruined by Bayley, and Liv.

Bayley’s arm wrapped around my neck, a huge grin plastered across her lips, “Well isn’t this cozy?”

“Damn it, I owe Chelsea fifty dollars.” Liv grumbled half heartedly, she pulled out her phone, more than likely texting Chelsea Green. Shaun let go of me, letting the girls swarm me, but didn’t feel offended by their disruption. He understood how important my tribe was to me, and he was never selfish in that right.

“I thought you said you were done making bets after the Super Bowl loss.” Shaun pivoted to Liv, his eyebrows pinched together, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. She groaned in response, the glare in her eyes was harmless, yet it was enough to make Shaun step down from the topic.

“Don’t be like that Liv, you should have known better than to bet against me.” I shrugged, all my friends were pretty much split on Shaun ending up being my main guy. Half of them thought he wouldn’t make it, and the other half were absolutely positive we’d be together.

Bayley let out a boisterous laugh, “I for one always knew what the end game was gonna be, you two look good.”

“Nah Mavis just adds to my beauty.” He chuckled, his gaze landed on me, admiration deep in his sky-blue eyes. I felt exposed, it didn’t take him long to get comfortable with idolizing me in front of everyone.

I flicked my hair over my shoulder, “the only one to outshine the megastar.” I shifted my weight from one hip to the other while simultaneously moving into a pose as Liv pointed her phone at Bayley and I. At last moment Bayley pulled Shaun into the picture, I had one arm wrapped around the back of Bayley, and the other across Shaun’s abdomen. The four of us stood around chatting for a while before Shaun got called to guerilla, being trusted to open the show was a rarity. If there’s anyone that could get the party started, and the crowds warmed up it’s LA Knight.

“And then there were three.” Bayley quipped, she flicked my hair, and the three of us stood there chatting. We weren’t on till a little later tonight, just as we were about to walk off to catering, Randy called me from afar.

“Mavis, we gotta talk.” He sounded, and looked annoyed. My heart jumped, he rarely called me by my name.

I let Liv, and Bayley continue on without me; they gave me a weary glance, but left me anyway. Carefully I approached him where he stood off to the side, he watched me with an intensity that I wasn’t used to. When his eyes were on me like this, it made me feel…bare. His height loomed over me making me feel minuscule regardless of my own height, he crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned in so only the two of us could hear, “the next time one of your little chew toys tries to check me I’m going to kick their ass.” I froze, my brain trying to run through the possibilities of who the hell he could have been talking about.

“What?” I responded, dumbfounded by his accusations, but also the fact that he thinks I have any control over these men.

“Waller just shoulder checked me, I mean I’m I sleeping or does he actually think he ranks up with me? You better take care of him, because if I have to, nobody will like it.” He was damn near frothing, I’ve never seen him so pissed, not like this.

“Waller? That man has never been on my roster, what did he even say?” I nearly choked on my spit, why is that idiot speaking on me to someone else? I’ve never even looked in his general direction.

“Listen…all I’m saying is, handle your business, stop stringing these guys along. It’s gonna cause something you won’t be able to finish Mavis, I’m being serious. Cut em’loose.”

“First of all I don’t need you to tell me how to go about things, and secondly like I was saying, I’ve never talked to Grayson. He’s not even close to my type, cut me some slack Randy.”

“No more slack, you deal with it, or I deal with it. Which is it gonna be?” He said firmly, not an ounce of humor in his tone, and if I wanted Grayson to live to see another day…I was gonna have to face him myself.

I didn’t answer fast enough, Randy was already turning in the opposite direction, more than likely to go find himself an Aussie Icon. Before he got too far I reached out, and grasped his bicep. I groaned heavily, and rolled my eyes which brought a satisfactory grin to the Legend Killers handsome face. “Fine, I’ll talk to Grayson okay? No need for you to murder anybody.” He looked down at my hand placement causing me to realize that I was still holding onto him, he flexed his arm underneath my hand. I quickly snatched away, Shaun’s face popping into my head, I should have known better.

I took a step back for good measure, that’s when a look of realization morphed onto his face. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t make that prick your boyfriend?”

“What? No, didn't you hear anything I just said?” I asked, my eyebrows scrunched, I was trying to figure out why the hell was he always so invested in my dating life.

“Then who is it?” Randy pressed for more information, his persistence would surely be the death of me.

“Why do you care?” I asked, rolling my eyes, he shrugged his shoulders, his arms folded across his chest.

“Because, I need to know who my competition is going to be.” He spoke bluntly, if I had water I’d spit it out.

My heart jumped, “what? You're what?”

“If we’re doing business together, I run a tight ship, Mavis, and we'll most likely spend a lot of time together…because I’m training you.” He explained, of course that’s what he meant.

“Oh…I don’t think Shaun is gonna be a problem. He’ll understand.” He’s never had a problem with me spending time with my other guy friends, training with Randy would be no different, or so I thought.

“Knight?” He said shocked, his voice raising, some people turned to look at us.

“God, tell the whole world why don’t you?” I huffed out air through my cheeks, those damn eyes of his, he really was snake like. It was eerie. I was discombobulated by how hard he was pressing me right now, I was engulfed by his whole presence. He easily snuffed my fire which made it hard to keep up with my cocky facade. I tried to avert my eyes away from him, but his icy gaze, of course he clocked my tea with zero effort.

“Are you embarrassed?” He asked, it’s like he was trying to pull my thoughts from my brain, I’ve never had anyone just out right try to guess what I was thinking.

“No.” I quickly answered, he was making me nervous as hell, and I hated that.

“Then what’s the problem?” His questions were rapid, giving me no time to think, or make up a better lie.

“It’s not one.” I denied, there was an internal battle I was having deep inside, but it’s not Shaun’s fault. Somehow Randy knew this to my misfortune.

“Then why are you acting weird?” He asked, his head now tilted like a curious cat.

“I’m not.” I lied again, never mind the way my pitch went up an octave

“Dude you’re acting weird.” He rolled his eyes as if I just confirmed all his suspicions, which worried me because no matter how good he was at getting answers from me I knew it’d never be the other way around. Randy is an open book when he wants to be, or if you weren’t too intimidated by him to ask. Guess which one I was.

“I am not!” I argued, this time when people turned to look their gaze lingered on us, I shuffled closer to the wall hoping Randy’s large frame would somewhat hide me.

“Alright.” He chuckled, holding his hands up in defense, “I’ll let it go for now, but uh tonight’s the beginning of a long journey. How do you feel?”

“Like I should have been doing this all along, but of course it took a man’s voice for mine to be heard.” On rare occasion I share how I really felt, how lucky he must feel

“What is that, a lyric in a song?” He snorted, like it's impossible for me to string together more than a basic thought.

“No you idiot, their words from my own brain, and I’m serious. I’ve been trying to tell them to let me turn heel in my own organic way. My fans know when it’s bullshit, and they weren’t fucking with that ‘baby face with an attitude’ from me.”

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s why I went ahead and pulled the trigger on it. Now you have the chance to prove to them why you should’ve had more creative control in the first place. However I can’t take all the credit, you’ve been planting the seeds thus far, all I did was water the plant.” His gaze softened, such a 180 from the way he looked at me moments ago.

“What is that, a lyric in a song?” He snorted, like it’s impossible to be gifted at this.

“No you idiot, words from my own brain, and I’m serious. I’ve been trying to tell them to let me turn heel in my own organic way. My fans know when it’s bullshit, and they weren’t fucking with that ‘rebel without a cause’ from me.”

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s why I went ahead and pulled the trigger on it. Now you have the chance to prove to them why you should’ve had more creative control in the first place. However I can’t take all the credit, you’ve been planting the seeds thus far, all I did was water the plant.”

“Still, the final pen should have been pushed because I signed off on it.” I tried to cough away the overwhelming frustration as tears threatened to fall, I hated the way he looked at me. I blinked, then swallowed my words, my eyes swept the ground as I tried to mentally regroup. “Anyways, yeah, I’m ready. I haven’t talked to anyone about tonight.” A white lie, Cardíerre was the first person I called about the impending heel turn. She’s the only non industry friend I had, besides my family, but even they were fans. I need a totally unbiased opinion to talk through everything with.

Randy nodded, he absentmindedly stroked his mustache with his index finger. A pensive expression etched across his face, “hmm that’s good, remember the person you’re turning into. Your real friends will understand.” He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, he gave me a reassuring squeeze, and with his other hand he gave me a thumbs up.

An airy laugh pushed past my lips, “thanks Randal.” My eyes lifted to meet his gaze, a mistake. I couldn’t look away, my brain just blanked, my heart racing, and my whole body frozen. The nagging thoughts of all the expectations bit back, it’s always been hard for me to find a happy medium. Either I’m half assing it, or I take it to an extreme level with my foot on the gas.

“Snap out of it, look at me. That’s it just breathe, we’re right here together Mavis, don’t you dare tap out now.” He shook me by the shoulders, the sensation pulling me from off the ledge.

Just then approaching footsteps could be heard from behind me, followed by Shaun’s voice. If I had been in my right mind I would have understood how incriminating Randy and I looked just then. “Randy, just always find yourself having one on one time don’t ya? Hm I think you’d make an even better counselor.”

“Yeah I’ll look into it, after I’ve retired you…megastar, legend, all the same to me.” Randy quipped, not missing a beat, Shaun’s arm was already snaking around my waist, and pulling me into his side. I felt dizzy, and nauseous. My heart was pounding from what I presumed was a panic, or anxiety attack.

“Oh is that right, well you just give me a call anytime you wanna set that up old pal.” Shaun’s tone became more nasty by the second; considering Randy was already hot from Waller earlier, they couldn’t have chosen a better time to let it rip.

Thankfully an official put their little spat to a pause, it was time for me to walk, and I only had 8 minutes. I caught a glimpse of Shaun’s face, his eyelids wide, and chest puffed out. Randy appeared to be unphased, his eyes told a different story. “How do I look?” I was technically speaking to Shaun.

“You look beautiful.”

“Like money kid.”

Both Randy, and Shaun spoke at the same time. “Ummm thanks guys.” I mumbled, and shuffled past them without another word. Yet again had I been in my right mind I would have noticed that my body was going to betray me in the next 30 minutes. All I could think about was the story Randy and I had been navigating through. There’s certain moments in the script I wanted to make sure to hit extra emphasis on, there’s a panel tonight for a fatal four. Bayley, Liv, Becky, and myself were to Duke it out at Fastlane to determine the number one contender spot. Bayley, Liv, and I are known to be friends. Tonight I was to sever that tie. They hit my music, but I just felt off. My whole body was shaky as I made my way down the ramp, the bright lights, the roar of the fans, it all blurred together. ‘God what am I doing?’ I didn’t even make it to the ring before my vision went spotty.

I screwed my eyes shut, when I opened them someone was kneeling beside me. “You keep going in and out, just stay with me Mavis…” The voice I recognized, I spent enough years on tv to know when Randy Orton was in my presence. “Fuck, can we get a goddamn medic!” He shouted, my body felt heavy, and my breathing ragged like I had been holding my breath underwater for too long. I could feel him scoop me into his arms as he argued with someone who was advising him to let me lie down. “As long as it took your ass’ to get down here! I’ll carry her by my damn self.” The last thing I saw was his piercing blue irises watching me, the feel on his hand caressing my cheek, and my body being strapped to a gurney. How fucking embarrassing.

[venusvilahu]

Midterm assignment done

In this assignment, I chose different objects that represent myself and my culture. Every object in this drawing has a special meaning in my life. For this composition, I have included an hourglass to remember myself that as human I am not an eternal being and therefore, I need to enjoy every moment as they fly past by fast. Another object is the little guitar, which symbolize my love for the music and musical instruments which I have played since I was a little girl. Also, I include a rosary to represent my religion that I have since child. Moreover, I included a candle to symbolize Christmas and the light that Jesus shines upon us which I consider an important tradition in my family. I have even participated in since Christmas-plays in my local church with others kids, everyone played different characters from the real history of Christmas with the birth of Jesus. Additionally, I placed a wooden castanet to symbolized my love for dancing which became part of my life for a long time. My parents placed me in dance classes since I was 4 years old to help me become more open with other kids through dance classes. I spent most of my life dancing until I migrated to the United States when I was 18 years old. I also include a wooden doll representing the love that I have for my family. The one tobacco and the statue of Hatuey are very representatives of my home country Cuba. Hatuey was an indigenous person that fought against the Spaniards defending the country and is symbol of the lost indigenous Taino and African racial integration of Cuba. The tobacco needs no explanations as it an iconic Cuban reference. The maracas were inherited from the indigenous Taino too, it is a musical cultural instrument. The Cuban flag is a patriotic symbol that represent the country and our legacy.

[photog-crafty]

Our old crew used to be pretty big, and sometimes four seats just weren't enough. The Annihilator let us taxi around without having to deal with the slowness of a Cargobob, and when rappelling was added to it, it got a nice little niche as a comfy copter for those of us who wanted to have a little fun while grinding.

Oh, the many memories I have with the Valkyrie. In a time when jets and tanks were kings, the Valkyrie was a god, raining destruction from the heavens at the behest of those worthy of it. A good friend of mine was a helicopter enthusiast, who understood there was more to the game than just padding your own KDR, and the moment a session turned sour we sounded the alarm like the Dudley Boyz, him at the stick and myself on the guns. Not even Hydras and Lazers could touch our helicopter as we restored comfy times to our crew sessions, proving that teamwork was the ultimate weapon. At least, until the game introduced shitter tools like the explosive sniper and fast missiles that finally forced our bird to return to Valhalla.

Some people would keel-haul me for not using the anime livery on the flying Dorito, but screw it, I liked my Volatol to look like a GI Joe toy. Unfortunately, it couldn't hurt much of anything, as it was a slow and giant target with ineffective bombs and turrets that were irreparably broken years after its release with no fix ever implemented. Better hope you got that Doomsday Heist mission done at release or you're in for a bad time.

There used to be a bug which allowed players to save the Agency's SuperVolito Carbon by simply taking it to their hangar. I don't think I ever actually flew it besides that initial trip. Hey, free helicopter.

The Ultralight was what you got when you strapped an LS1 to a hang glider. It was kind of a neat concept, being so small that it could go off the radar just by laying off the throttle. It eventually fell by the wayside because the Akula did everything it could, but better.

The Rogue was a two-person jack-of-all-trades. It was fun for goofing around and handing bomb controls off to the copilot, but it didn't see much flight time because it couldn't do anything better than another aircraft.

A lot of players didn't know that the free Cuban 800 that came free with each hangar could be equipped with bombs just like more expensive planes. This and its completely innocuous radar icon made it fun for getting into trouble without drawing attention.

A cargo plane that could be used as such, the Titan was a fan favorite from beginning to end. We've all loaded a car or two into the back of one of these things and taken it up to the altitude limit for purely scientific purposes.

The FH-1 Hunter was the Valkyrie's big brother that could buy beer and did a ton of PCP. No longer was the pilot stuck watching their gunner rack up the kills, as they had a host of missiles and countermeasures at their disposal. Well-timed use of chaff even allowed it to lock down memebikes, cementing it as the go-to "this person needs to leave the session" vehicle until the very end.

Though many have challenged its throne, the P-996 Lazer has been the king of the skies since the game very first launched in 2013. I was never a great pilot, so I just dolled mine up to look like Blitzwing from Transformers G1 and called it a day, but a few of my more dedicated friends learned every inch of this plane and used it to nightmarish effect. Through use of spawn manipulation, sometimes ground targets didn't even have enough time to open the pause menu and leave the game before getting taken out by another strafe. Newer is not always better.

[hovslane]

Saweetie X Cuban Doll.

[janeissx0x]

[heartsmadeofmetal]

[dreamings-free]

How Harry Styles Became A Modern Style Icon

by Phoe­be Luck­hurst - Evening Standard 15/11/19

A man wrought in the fires of teenage boy­band hy­per-stardom is not afraid of a lit­tle commotion. Still when Harry Styles — the One Di­rec­tion mat­inée idol turned lan­guid Gen Z icon — tweeted, at 1.01 pm GMT on Wed­nes­day af­ter­noon, that he would be tak­ing his up­com­ing album Fine Line on tour, you could, if at­tuned to the cor­rect de­mo­graphic fre­quency, hear the howl echo around the in­ter­net: gut­tural, hun­gry, ul­u­lat­ing. This was a pseudo-re­li­gious experience: one vi­ral meme de­picted the Pope hold­ing a copy of his al­bum aloft. The announce­ment has been retweeted al­most 70,000 times.

The 25-year old is a tour vet­eran — he spent five years and five al­bums strapped to the thunder­ing 1D jug­ger­naut — but this new tour is his first as a bona fide solo brand. The al­bum, his first in two years, is synth-soaked and soul­ful, the al­bum’s aes­thetic fever­-dreamy. Granted, he’s not the first per­son to go to So­Cal, try a few magic mush­rooms and de­clare him­self radically trans­formed, but the re­sults are be­guil­ing — and cer­tainly a world away from his years as a Simon Cow­ell Ken doll. Since his last record, he has co- hosted t he Met Gala and been reborn as an Alessan­dro Michele muse. This is your Styles crib sheet.

Melody maker

Styles’s new al­bum — writ­ten un­der a tie-dye mist af­ter tak­ing the afore­men­tioned psychedelics, which also re­sulted in a mishap in which he bit off the tip of his tongue — is “all about hav­ing sex and feel­ing sad”, which, granted, as a topline, does not wildly dif­fer­en­ti­ate the record from the genre of “al l other mu­sic ever”. Still, the early signs for Fine Line are encouraging. Its first sin­gle, Lights Up—which has been streamed al­most 100 mil­lion times on Spo­tify —is­ synth-y, soul­ful, un­der­stat­edly an­themic, very dif­fer­ent to, and bet­ter than, the lead sin­gle on his last solo record, the Seven­ties, soft-rock Sign of the Times( it still, of course, hit No 1), and very, very dif­fer­ent from any­thing he did with 1D. Many thou­sands of words have been writ­ten about whether there is a bi­sex­ual sub­text to Lights Up. It has been noted that the song was re­leased on Na­tional Com­ing Out Day, that Styles’s sex­u­al­ity has been sub­ject to fren­zied specu­la­tion be­fore, the video fea­tures an oiled-up, top­less Styles gy­rat­ing around men and women, and that the lyrics (“Shine, I’m not ever go­ing back/ Shine, step into the light”) could be in­ter­preted as a mean­ing­ful rev­e­la­tion of sorts. Cer­tainly, he has be­come a queer icon — especially with Gen Z — who are thrilled by his se­lec­tion of gen­derqueer singer-song­writer King Princess as his sup­port act for the Euro­pean part of his tour. Speak­ing of col­lab­o­ra­tors, Styles worked on the al­bum with pro­duc­ers Tyler John­son, who has worked with Tay­lor Swift, Mi­ley Cyrus and Ed Sheeran, and Jeff Bhasker, who has collabo­rated wit h Mark Ron­son and Kanye West, and his friend, Tom Hull, aka Kid Har­poon, who co-wrote Shake It Out for Florence + The Ma­chine. He has also been granted a fairy god­mother: Ste­vie Nicks, who called him her “lit­tle muse” at Fleetwood Mac’s hyped Wembley head­line gig i n J une. “S he’s a l ways there for you,” Styles has said in the past. “She knows what you need: ad­vice, a lit­tle wis­dom, a blouse, a shawl.” Sure.

Got Styles

Any young man raised in the white heat of a boy­band spot­light must be granted the space to find his fash­ion path; Styles has done so with no mis­steps and ex­u­ber­ant plea­sure. Once upon a time, he would sem­a­phore his in­di­vid­u­al­ity with a ban­dana; now, he turns up to a cover interview with Rolling Stone in a white floppy hat, blue denim bell-bot­toms and Gucci shades, his nails coloured pink and green. His favourite trousers, un­til he lost them on the beach, were a pair of mus­tard cor­duroy flares; this week, he wore a Lan­vin sweater vest with a sheep de­sign that sent a co­terie of Lon­don menswear stylists into throes of ec­stasy. He wears flo­ral suits and Cuban heels, ruf­fled, New Ro­man­tic shirts, Charles Jef­frey jump­suits and pussy- bow blouses. It is flam­boy­ant, self-con­sciously Bowie/Jag­ger, and in Gen Z par­lance, “very ex­tra”. His stylist Harry Lam­bert is par­tial to an ex­trav­a­gant col­lar, dra­matic neck­line and a vo­lu­mi­nous trouser.

Be­sides Lam­bert, an­other part of this evo­lu­tion has been his re­la­tion­ship with Gucci’s cre­ative di­rec­tor Michele, who has turned the Ital­ian her­itage brand into the ul­ti­mate post-gen­der lux­ury fash­ion la­bel, the first to merge their menswear and wom­enswear, and dis­patch male mod­els down the cat­walk in dresses and women in suits. A good look for a Gen Z idol.

With the brand

Notably, the brand­ing on this al­bum and its tour art­work is con­sis­tent with this new look Styles. The al­bum cover fea­tures Styles i n white cus­tom- made Gucci bell bot­toms and a Pep­to Bismol-pink shirt, open al­most to the waist, shot by mod-goth Tim Walker with a fish­eye lens (it is Walker’s hand in that S&M glove you can see in the left-hand cor­ner). In the dreamy video for Lights Up he wears a glit­tery suit and sus­penders, in a sort of hal­lu­ci­na­tory ver­sion of Satur­day Night Fever. Into it.

Stand up

Then there’s his voice — not the mu­sic, but the ac­tivism. Even as one-fifth of a boy­band manufac­tured by Cow­ell’s al­go­rithm, he was quick, quippy and itch­ing to go off-mes­sage; but now that he con­trols his own, he is am­pli­fy­ing causes such as Black Lives Mat­ter and End Gun Violence. He wore stick­ers for both on his gui­tar on his last tour, which might sound small, except that photographs of Styles gal­lop around the dig­i­tal world at hy­per­speed. At con­certs, he has waved pride, bi and trans flags, and a Black Lives Mat­ter flag. He once bor­rowed a flag from an au­di­ence mem­ber at a show in Philadel­phia that read, “Make Amer­ica Gay Again”. At a show on his last tour, he de­clared: “If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are trans­gen­der — who­ever you are, who­ever you want to be, I sup­port you.”

A vo­cal, en­gaged fan­dom of teenage girls minted his mul­ti­mil­lion-pound for­tune; he is loyal and ad­mir­ing of their zeal. “They’re the most hon­est — es­pe­cially if you’re talk­ing about teenage girls, but older as well,” he told Rolling Stone this sum­mer. “They have that bull­shit de­tec­tor. We’re so past that dumb out­dated nar­ra­tive of ‘Oh, these peo­ple are girls, so they don’t know what they’re talk­ing about.’ They’re the ones who know what they’re talk­ing about. They’re the peo­ple who lis­ten ob­ses­sively. They f***ing own this shit. They’re run­ning it.” Ob­vi­ously, he’s a fem­i­nist. “Of course men and women should be equal. I don’t want credit for be­ing a fem­i­nist. I think the ideals of fem­i­nism are pretty straight­for­ward.” An icon is born.

[jutebugle4-blog]

In Dolores Prida's semiautobiographical play Casa Propia, a Cuban immigrant family deals with home ownership

The late Cuban-American columnist and playwright Dolores Prida aptly called her 1999 semiautobiographical play, about a matriarchal Cuban immigrant family's struggles with East Harlem home ownership, A Room of One's Own infused with Lysistrata. Conflicted trailblazer Olga, who believes owning land in America is meaningful vengeance against a society that largely denies her existence, fights to purchase property where her cynical daughter, Marilis, and domineering mother-in-law, Fefa, might establish permanent refuge, despite her lothario husband Manolo's insistence he can't be tied to one spot (as it might inhibit his incessant philandering, particularly with curvaceous new neighbor Yarisa). Watching over everything is the aged, enigmatic Fanny, the last Italian-American in this once all-Italian neighborhood.

Prida also called the play an opera without music, a description director Sándor Menéndez wisely disregards, injecting ensemble and solo songs floor-show style throughout the show's 80 minutes. Even more wisely, he turns Prida's overly familiar material into a kind of adult fairy tale (Olga's home is a five-foot-tall doll's house on wheels, for example), greatly emphasizing the script's metatheatricality and turning nearly stereotypical characters into iconic figures. It's an ingenious solution that elevates everything to a playfully mythic realm, complete with a childlike narrator cum mischievous angel

As usual, Aguijón Theater assembles nimble, judicious players who breathe convincing life into their characters and find intoxicating rhythms in both spoken and sung dialogue. And when Alba Guerra as squeaky-voiced crone Fanny finally opens up and sings, you'll wish she'd go on all night.   v

Source: https://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/casa-propia-aguijon-theater/Content?oid=60818626

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY: 40 YEARS OF TELEVISION

1955 Part Two - JULY to DECEMBER

“I Love Lucy” enters its fifth season - in Hollywood!  Classic episodes with memorable guest stars. 

“What’s My Line?” (S7;E5) ~ October 2, 1955

Lucy and Desi are the mystery guests. The panel has trouble identifying that it is a couple, not just one guest. Arlene Francis guesses correctly. Broadcast from New York City.  The couple promote the next night’s fifth season premiere of “I Love Lucy.” 

"Lucy Visits Grauman's" (ILL S5;E1) ~ October 3, 1955

Hollywood’s iconic cinema was recreated on a Desilu soundstage, complete with the footprints in the forecourt.  A stand-alone episode that is also linked to the following one starring John Wayne. James V. Kern takes over as director.  Filmed September 9, 1955.  Colorized for broadcast on May 20, 2016. 

"Lucy and John Wayne" (ILL S5;E2) ~ October 10, 1955

John Wayne agreed to co-star in return for on-screen promotion of his new film Blood Alley. He also played himself on “The Lucy Show.” Director Kern has trouble coaxing Little Ricky (Michael Mayer) to play in the wet cement. Filmed September 15, 1955.  Colorized for broadcast on May 20, 2016.  

"Lucy and the Dummy" (ILL S5;E3) ~ October 17, 1955

This episode was running short, so a sneak preview of MGM’s new musical film Guys and Dolls was inserted, although it was only seen once, in its initial airing.  Lucy sings “I Get Ideas,” dancing with ‘Raggedy Ricky.’  Filmed September 22, 1955. 

"Ricky Sells the Car" (ILL S5;E4) ~ October 24, 1955

When Desi Arnaz first read the script, he didn’t like it. He thought the two new writers, Bob Schiller and Bob Weiskopf, had written it. But he changed his opinion when he learned that the old writers, Madelyn Pugh and Bob Carroll, Jr., were responsible for the episode. Filmed September 29, 1955. 

"The Great Train Robbery" (ILL S5;E5) ~ October 31, 1955

Actual footage of the Union Pacific Domeliner was inserted into the studio shots. Bill Frawley and Vivian Vance actually went on location on the train, but their footage was cut. First time a black actor (Hattie McDaneil’s brother Sam) is featured on the show.  Best remembered for the return of Frank Nelson as the train conductor.  Filmed October 6, 1955.  

"The Homecoming" (ILL S5;E6) ~ November 7, 1955

Sanka coffee is a new sponsor, given title placement. Elvia Allman returns as gossip columnist Nancy Graham, a character loosely modeled on Sheilah Graham, an English-born Hollywood journalist.  In the crowd is Little Ricky’s (the Mayer Twins) real mother, Eva Jean Mayer.  Filmed October 20, 1955.  

"Face to Face" aka “The Ricardos Are Interviewed” (ILL S5;E7) ~ November 14, 1955

“Face to Face” starring Ed Warren (Elliott Reid) is a parody of “Person to Person” with Edward R. Murrow. The episode also features the rousing song “Rancho Grande.”  Filmed October 20, 1955. 

"Lucy Goes to a Rodeo" (ILL S5;E8) ~ November 28, 1955

This is a very musical show, with Fred and Ethel singing “Birmingham Jail,”  Doye O'Dell singing “The Old Chisholm Trail,” Ricky singings “Texas Pete” (a variation on “Cuban Pete”), and the gang doing a western bell-ringer’s interpretation of “Down By the Old Mill Stream.”  Filmed October 27, 1955. 

"Nursery School" (ILL S5;E9) ~ December 5, 1955

The teddy bear Lucy smuggles into the hospital for her son was later manufactured for retail sale. Filmed November 3, 1955. 

"Ricky's European Booking" (ILL S5;E10) ~ December 12, 1955

Desi and The Pied Pipers take sing "Forever, Darling," the theme song of the upcoming Ball-Arnaz picture of the same name, released three months after this episode.  This episode kicks off the Europe Trip episodes.  November 10, 1955. 

"The Passports" (ILL S5;E11) ~ December 19, 1955

Although she had claustrophobia, Lucille Ball actually was inside the closed trunk.  This episode is full of references to Ball’s real-life upbringing in Jamestown, New York.  Filmed November 17, 1955.  

ALSO IN 1955...

“The King and Brooks” (”Our Miss Brooks” S4;E8) ~ November 25, 1955

Desi Arnaz plays himself in Miss Brooks (Eve Arden) dream. The episode also features Gale Gordon and Hy Averback. Lucille Ball does not appear. 

[stretchjournalemerson]

Records on Living Room Walls: How a Man I've Never Met Defines Me

By Sophie Pargas

As my grandmother left her home of Cuba behind with only a porcelain doll and small duffel bag of clothes to remember it by, not much was promised. Behind her, she left her family, friends, school, home; everything she had ever known was traded for a plane ticket to a country filled with unfamiliarity. She did, however, have one thing which the Castro regime did not succeed in taking from her: her parents, sister, and brother. Together, they struggled to acclimate to a new country, language, and culture, all the while fighting to make sure their’s did not go forgotten. Though years passed and The United States began to feel like more and more of a home, the story of my great uncle’s coming out and getting diagnosed with HIV proved that hardships could be found even in “the land of the free and home of the brave.”

Growing up, I remember visiting my great grandmother’s house and admiring dozens of records and pictures on the walls, remnants of a man I would never get the chance to meet. It wasn’t until later that my grandmother found the strength to tell me his story, but once I knew it, I never seemed to miss the ways it defined my family and our belief system. My grandmother’s brother, Aristedes Jacobs, defied social norms of his time and traditions of his culture by coming out as gay during the peak of the AIDS epidemic. Though sexuality was a taboo subject which lived up to the notorious saying of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” I often think of the courage it took Ari to face his traditional Cuban family knowing that their culture challenged them to reject his identity outright.

Heartbreakingly, Ari was a victim of his era and was diagnosed with HIV in his young adulthood. Soon enough, the disease stole away my grandmother's baby brother, leaving me to learn of his legacy through tear ridden stories and records on living room walls. Though his legacy is a heartache which is still felt by my grandparents, father, uncles, and aunts, I am certain that it has challenged the traditional Hispanic view of homosexuality and replaced it with a yearning for acceptance and empathy within my family.

Cuban refugees forced to flee in the wake of immense political unrest, my grandmother and her family struggled to create a life and a legacy for themselves in America whilst honoring the ones they left behind. To them, culture and pride were everything; if they did not uphold the values of their country, they would find the mark it left on them slowly fading into oblivion. One of these values, encapsulated by the spanish word “machismo”, created a deep rooted and traditional belief in toxic masculinity and homophobia which seeped its way into the inner workings of my family. The term created an idealized and often completely unattainable version of men as unemotional, dominant breadwinners who strived for nothing more than power and women. Machismo culture not only worsened pre existing gender norms, but it also perpetuated a culture of fear surrounding sexuality. Men like Ari who, by Cuban standards, did not live up to the machismo characteristics by practicing homosexuality were considered weak and inmasculine by nature. Forced to decide between their identities and ostracization by their communities and families, many men chose not to relinquish their pride and value by coming out and instead led lives dominated by fear and shame.

My great uncle, despite having come out to his two sisters and living his truth behind closed doors, was no exception to the exemplification of discomfort surrounding sexuality within his family. Even after the disease began to deteriorate his body and mind alike, Ari had yet to share his diagnosis or even come out to his parents, and these words were ones left unspoken. Though my great grandparents inevitably learned of his sexuality and the disease which stole his life away, the conversation was one they could never bring themselves to have; at the mercy of shame, fear, and tradition, Ari was forced to carry a piece of himself to the grave with him.

While his death undoubtedly left behind insurmountable regret, pain, and suffering, the stories I have heard growing up have been centered on his life, his legacy, and the lessons learned in his wake. Ari’s identity completely challenged his culture, and it forced my family to reassess and redefine the beliefs upon which we build our legacies. In addition to serving as a hammer with which to tear down narrow walls encompassing narrow viewpoints, his story is a motif for the beauty and possibility of growth. After his death, my great grandmother showed her acceptance in her own ways; she wore a red pin which symbolizes HIV awareness to his funeral and even requested to be buried at his side. Today, I am proud to say that my family is one who accepts all people for their differences, and they have raised me to do the same. Despite the fact that society and culture pressured them to ostracize him, my family evolved into one who was proud of his story, who speaks fondly of his legacy and passed it on to me so I had this opportunity to do the same.

At his core, Ari was a man who lived his life in pursuit of happiness, and being gay was only one small part of this. A music producer and promoter in the iconic disco era, he loved to create music and share it with those around him. One of my favorite stories is told by my grandfather, who recalls the time Ari casually invited YMCA’s Village People to enjoy dinner with his extremely conservative and unknowing Cuban family. The platinum records I used to admire on the walls of my great grandparents’ living room are pieces of history, symbols of a budding success which Ari was only beginning to acquire and an impact which would long outlive the numbered years he was given. Though the records have since been taken down and the house in which they hung has become someone else’s home, Ari’s legacy lives and breathes through not only my family, but through every person we love, every difference we accept, and every moment we cherish in his honor.

[touchtheflames]

Have you ever met someone who looks so good in red? No? I didn’t think so.

If Ember was a modern day singer, I genuinely think she’d be Rihanna. “Needed Me” by Rihanna was essentially ghostwritten by Ember and the entire music video is just Rihanna killing men. How much more Ember does it need to get?

Ember loves cigars. There’s just something so spicy and earthy about them that she loves. She likes the taste and she’ll pay extra for those nice Cubans. After every successful Guardian mission, I imagine that Ember smokes a cigar and then tries to get Cobalt to do the same. She’s a big frequenter of those nice, elegant smoking lounges. You can find her at one of those card tables, decked out in a nicely fit black suit with a smoking cigar in one hand.

Red lipstick is a must. What is a black widow without a bloody mouth?

Ember once challenged herself in the bedroom with one of her lovers to see which could cause more pleasure: Malachite’s #69 elixir or her. It was a hard fought victory but Ember eventually emerged victorious. That’s why one night with Ember is fucking legendary.

Ember uses pet names for those she doesn’t care about. Baby, doll, love, sweetheart, she purrs them into people’s ears and watches them shiver with whatever emotion she’s invoked in them. When Ember doesn’t care about you, she will not remember your name and she’ll be cruel about it too. One of the worst things to Ember is someone not knowing her name. She didn’t go through hell as a young Fey, bullied beyond belief, all for someone not to know her name. E-M-B-E-R. Ember. She’s Ember Fairburn, Seelie Guardian and Black Widow and by Danu, everyone’s going to know her name by the time she dies in this world. She doesn’t want her name to die with her but rather, she wants to be talked about as one of the infamous Seelie Guardians for the rest of time. She doesn’t care what they whisper about her or about her deeds, she’s thriving on the sole fact that people ARE talking about her. 

Ember is Seelie to her core. All their morals are what she aims to personify. She might not be aristocratic but she is naturally beautiful, relying very little on glamour except on covering up her scars. She’s beautiful, youthful, pleasurable, she lives for the revels of the Seelie court. She scorns all thing Unseelie despite that side of her, forever denying herself any sort of association with that court. 

Part of her Seelie self is her intense loyalty to King Adare. I almost imagine that she was given a job in the palace before she became a guardian. She grew up, running to the kitchens and trying to catch glimpses of Adare. He might have been seventy years older than her and ascended when she was three but she felt a sort of kinship with him. They’re both things that the Seelie court did not expect - a male Seelie King and the bastard half-breed. Ember would never bring this up to Adare but as a child, she was fascinated by him, taking jobs just to see him when she could. He might have been a King but he always treated her gently whenever she stumbled in front of him. She might have developed a girlish crush as a child but as a woman, she has no time for that sort of thing. Crushes? Loves? Not in these heels. 

Ember walks in time with the beat. Each sloooow, bump n grind step of hers is perfectly timed, never off-beat. She saunters and slips closer, hips swaying to the sound of the drums. Music loves Ember and Ember loves music. A good guitar riff? The sexiest thing she’s ever heard.

I think as a duo, the dynamic of Cobalt and Ember is iconic. I love that he’s the steady one, walking through her inferno. I think she was a blazing, burning firestorm that didn’t know how to control it in the beginning. Like the steady, guiding hand of the river, Cobalt curbed her anger and taught her how to control it. He taught her that anger comes in handy sometimes and it’s a powerful motivator but she has to be smart. 

When Adare couldn’t escort his darling children Echna and Fianait whenever they wanted to go into the human world and even some places in the Seelie Court, it was Ember who kept an eye on them. And, she honestly loved them. She loved the backbone on them, the fact that they were so purely Seelie, that they loved her and ran to her whenever she returned from a mission with gifts for them. 

Ember loves rap music and sushi. 

Ember’s #BadAtLove but jealousy isn’t a word that she knows. She’s never been jealous of people in love or of her romantic partners. If anything, she’s often on the end of someone else being jealous toward her. And jealousy is so unattractive. 

She’s tough but God help her, she loves feminine things. She leaves red lipstick marks on fine china, sipping a rich tea. She loves ornate hair scarves, draping them around her head as she walks down Soho. Girl loves shopping but that might stem from having very little as a child. She’s always walked that fine line between love and lust, femininity and fatality. She’s very dynamic in her job but keeps who she is outside of it.

[woolenjumbo5-blog]

In Dolores Prida's semiautobiographical play Casa Propia, a Cuban immigrant family deals with home ownership

The late Cuban-American columnist and playwright Dolores Prida aptly called her 1999 semiautobiographical play, about a matriarchal Cuban immigrant family's struggles with East Harlem home ownership, A Room of One's Own infused with Lysistrata. Conflicted trailblazer Olga, who believes owning land in America is meaningful vengeance against a society that largely denies her existence, fights to purchase property where her cynical daughter, Marilis, and domineering mother-in-law, Fefa, might establish permanent refuge, despite her lothario husband Manolo's insistence he can't be tied to one spot (as it might inhibit his incessant philandering, particularly with curvaceous new neighbor Yarisa). Watching over everything is the aged, enigmatic Fanny, the last Italian-American in this once all-Italian neighborhood.

Prida also called the play an opera without music, a description director Sándor Menéndez wisely disregards, injecting ensemble and solo songs floor-show style throughout the show's 80 minutes. Even more wisely, he turns Prida's overly familiar material into a kind of adult fairy tale (Olga's home is a five-foot-tall doll's house on wheels, for example), greatly emphasizing the script's metatheatricality and turning nearly stereotypical characters into iconic figures. It's an ingenious solution that elevates everything to a playfully mythic realm, complete with a childlike narrator cum mischievous angel

As usual, Aguijón Theater assembles nimble, judicious players who breathe convincing life into their characters and find intoxicating rhythms in both spoken and sung dialogue. And when Alba Guerra as squeaky-voiced crone Fanny finally opens up and sings, you'll wish she'd go on all night.   v

Source: https://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/casa-propia-aguijon-theater/Content?oid=60818626

[hovslane]

Cuban Doll Icons.