#range rover rodeo

[mafaldaknows]

I just don't understand what his team was thinking when they agreed to this stunt. Exactly how does he benefit from it other then being seen as an uber straight grade-A douchebag? Is this really the image his team wants for Timmy? There's just too much talent and potential there to be shamming with a Kartrashian/Jenner.

Hello, Anon:

It’s absolutely mind-boggling what having more money than God can buy in the United States of America these days: New lips, new hips, and a sparkling new image with a shiny new man who apparently doesn’t even need to be present to win.

The KarJenner PR team has been hard at work for the last few months for a classy reboot of baby sister Kylie, complete with a romance with the internet’s boyfriend, style influencer and fashion icon Timothée Chalamet, who also happens to be the greatest actor of his generation. At face value, it certainly does seem like an unlikely match, given the imbalance of (dare I say it?) intellectual curiosity and preternatural talents between them. But anything is possible, when one has more money than one can ever spend in several lifetimes and the other has greater goals and ambitions than his power and influence will allow at this point in his career.

Both parties involved, however directly or indirectly, can find benefit in being in each other’s orbits driveways, taco restaurants, tarmac, in an image-conscious culture ravenous for juicy content just like this.

One of the pair has received a decidedly more positive boost from it.

The other, not so much, perhaps by design.

He may have extremely valid reasons for wanting to promote that particular “douchebag” image, if he really is willingly participating in what appears to be yet another PR romance. His handlers and PR team probably assume that he must do this in order to continue to level up in Hollywood as the next Leonardo DiCaprio. And they are probably right, given the current wave of puritanical bigotry in the USA and elsewhere in the world. There is far too much money riding on the success of his next three potentially blockbuster projects and too many people with a vested interest in his success for them to allow his image to be seen as anything other than “normal” in order to appeal to the mainstream sensibilities of a global audience. His own ambitions most likely make it impossible to refuse.

Can’t knock the hustle. ✨💃🕺🏻✨ And both of them are hustlers. Maybe that’s what they have in common.

If this were truly an authentic romance, we already know that all they would need to do to keep it private is to KEEP IT PRIVATE: Say nothing to the press, don’t call the paparazzi to meet you in the parking lot, don’t alert the media at all. They both have the means and resources to disappear from public view whenever they want, if they really wanted to do that. It’s not a requirement to begin a new relationship with a press release, not even for celebrities.

And yet here we are, a love story loudly announced in a tale of two cars, maybe three, long driveways but park at the bottom where everyone can see, and taco dates with paparazzi who take photos but only with his wingman.

A story which has made it abundantly clear that at least one of them wants to

MAKE SURE EVERYONE NOTICES their super-duper-uber-private budding romance 🚘🌮❣️🌮🚘

I’m not entirely convinced that he’s even an active participant in all of this, TBH. Many of the details thus far don’t add up to much of anything except a lot of black cars being shuffled around in his driveway published by the trash gossip press with sensationalist headlines and articles intended to plant the idea in the minds of those who want to believe it or need to know it’s happening.

For reasons.

And all of this accomplished without a single decent photo as concrete evidence of this alleged romance between two people famously well-versed in the art of the selfie in the golden age of Instagram.

Not even a fan photo or one “leaked” by their team. Nothing, except some extraordinarily grainy outdoor shots in someone’s backyard where the only easily identifiable person is Kylie Jenner and only because of her unusual proportions, in a town teeming with Teemo lookalikes who would happily stand in for the real thing for nothing but the chance to say they did it.

The Devil works hard but Kris Jenner works harder.

Seeing might be believing, but only if we can actually see what we’re seeing.

Thanks for your comment. 🤔🥔📸🎪🫤🤷🏻‍♀️

[postencore]

[home-inspiration-blog]

Video shows mini-bike riders run red light, slam into SUV in Beverly Hills

A video recorded over the weekend shows two mini-bike riders slamming into the side of an SUV while running a red light in Beverly Hills. The collisions with the Range Rover occurred just after 5:30 p.m. Sunday on Rodeo Drive, according to Street People Media who shared the video with KTLA. The SUV driver stopped after the crash as even more mini-bike riders pulled up to the scene and waved for…

[3acesnews]

Rodeo Drive T-Bone Crash, Mini-Bikes Smash into Range Rover

[cheapandawesome]

Rodeo Drive T-Bone Crash Mini-Bikes Smash into Range Rover

That's gonna leave a mark!!! Some serious rough riding went down on world-famous Rodeo Drive as a bunch of mini-motorcycles slammed into a MUCH bigger luxury SUV. The driver of a white Range Rover was cruising through the Bev Hills intersection --… via https://ift.tt/pTBMgIw

[blogisteraaq]

Rodeo Drive T-Bone Crash, Mini-Bikes Smash into Range Rover ... https://easytrending.online/2025/02/20/rodeo-drive-t-bone-crash-mini-bikes-smash-into-range-rover/?feed_id=6428

[labelleperfumery]

Rodeo Drive T-Bone Crash, Mini-Bikes Smash into Range Rover

That’s gonna leave a mark!!! Some serious rough riding went down on world-famous Rodeo Drive as a bunch of mini-motorcycles slammed into a MUCH bigger luxury SUV. The driver of a white Range Rover was cruising through the Bev Hills intersection –… from TMZ.com https://www.tmz.com/2025/02/20/beverly-hills-bike-crash-range-rover-rodeo-drive/

[dotfr]

“Butter peacan.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

I Can Explain: South Terano/ Ken Ryuguji/ Ran Haitani/ Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

based on this request from @aasouthteranoswife: Their s/o accidentally hitting their bike with s/o’s car 🙃

wc: 955

tw: none

masterlist

song recommendation:

South Terano

"South!"

Your worried exclamation precedes his entry into the garage, where you're standing, hands over your mouth.

"What's wrong?" he breathes, but once he sees the damaged bike at your feet, he knows what you did. A high-pitched ringing begins in his ears and he tries to think, think, think...

"South, I'm so sorry..." You burst into tears, and South's heart immediately melts. He can't stay mad at you with those fat tears rolling down your flushed cheeks; he wasn't a man made of stone.

"Baby, baby..." he coos, holding his arms out to you and stepping over the shards of mirror littered on the floor. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I'll take it to the shop in the morning."

"I'll pay for it," you blubber, but South clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he envelops you in a deep hug you're not sure you'll ever want to leave.

"No, no. I have a friend who owes me a favor. It'll all be okay."

Draken

Draken heard the crash and immediately hopped off of his perch on the couch, remote still in hand. When he threw open the garage door, there you were - in the brand new Range Rover - and there his bike was, tipped over and undoubtedly dented on the left-hand side.

You're staring at the bike in horror behind the wheel, but when you see Draken looking from you to the motorbike, you pull back out of the garage and peel off, burning rubber on the street.

"Hey!" Draken calls out, but you're gone, not even daring to offer an apology or a helping hand. No, you're his version of a hit and run. "Fuck..."

Before he can even investigate the damage on his bike, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and speed-dials your number.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me..." you yell on the other end.

"Hey, hey, hey," Draken begins, rubbing his temples. "You know I fix bikes for a living, right?"

"Oh," you whisper, and he sighs. "I forgot."

"Get your ass back here so I can not worry about you worrying about my bike."

"So you can fix it?" Draken looks back at the bike and considers the fact that none of it seems really that broken anyways.

"Of course I can. I'm the repairman, remember?"

Ran Haitani

"Y/n!"

You sit up straight in your desk chair, praying to God that Ran was finished with dinner.

"Come downstairs!"

Eagerly, you hop out of your chair and rush down the steps, your stomach growling mercilessly. "I hope you made soup," you begin, but when you arrive in the kitchen, you see Ran sitting down, fingers smeared with oil and a wrench lying on the table, no food in sight.

"Come over here."

Oh, shit.

You swallow hard and walk over to Ran, who lets you sit in his lap, which is something he does when you're in trouble. Big trouble.

"Want to know what I've been doing for the past three hours?"

"Um..." You look at the wrench and oil on his hands, which are resting on your upper thighs. "Fixing the exhaust pipe?"

"Fixing the exhaust pipe," he affirms, nodding slowly. "And how, pray tell, did it get like that?"

"The door was open and it let in a draft? And the draft blew the bike over?" Ran's violet eyes are unamused.

"I'll ask again." Ran repositions you so that you're caged between his arms, facing him head-on. "What happened. To my. Bike."

"So," you begin sheepishly. "I was pulling in last night after the girls and I went out, and I was so drunk that I thought your bike was further away but it wasn't, and then I bumped into it and it almost fell over, but then I caught it and I put it upright, but the exhaust pipe--" Ran cuts you off with a finger to your lips.

"You got drunk and drove home?"

You wish you could melt into the ground as Ran stands, lifting you as well and walking you to the bedroom.

"Get your keys." You slide off of him and rummage around in your purse for the key fob, handing them over to him. He takes them, slides them into his pocket, then sighs. "I'll be driving you around from now on. And you'll be helping me get the dent out of the SUV."

"Okay, but," you whisper. "How long are you going to be my chauffeur?"

"Three weeks. One week for each hour I had to fix my bike."

Ran doesn't really know how to do punishments, you reason, following him to the garage. But that's just fine with you. You know how to get a few dents out of a car. This isn't your first rodeo, after all.

Rindou Haitani

The receipt is slapped in front of you, and you balk at the number at the bottom.

"Six thousand dollars?"

Rindou doesn't do anything but grunt, rolling his neck around and then exhaling deeply.

"Babe," he begins, sitting beside you at the table. "This was a lot of money for the accident you had."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, pressing your lips together. "How can I make it up to you, Rin?"

"You can start by promising not to hit my bike again," the blonde man mutters.

"I promise," you reply confidently.

"And those six thousand dollars really ate into my profits from this year... it really hurt my heart, too." You tilt your head at the younger Haitani, a smile pulling at your lips.

"I know a few things that can ease a broken heart."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I'll start by apologizing on my knees," you smirk. "How does that sound?"

[suckitsurveys]

R

The R Survey by joybucket

List ten things that are red. Blood, roses, apples, strawberries, lipstick, fire, leaves, tomatoes, hair, rubies. Do you like to read? No. Have you ever owned a rainbow rose? I think so? Or maybe a carnation. What’s your favorite flavor of Ramen noodles? Chicken and mushroom WHICH I CAN NEVER FIND.

List three of your favorite ways to relax. Around a bonfire, watching TV, being in water. List ten words that rhyme with “red.” Bread, cred, dead, fed, led, ted, wed, bled, dread, said.

Do you like…

ranch dressing? the color red? roses? Reese’s cups? running? random surveys? random surprises? Ronald McDonald? resting when needed? raisins? renessaince fairs? raspberries? raviolis? the name Rebecca? Rascal Flatts? ribbons? Raisin Bran? raking leaves? racing games? rodeo clowns? the name Raven? ravens? ripped jeans? Have you ever…. ran a marathon? ran a 5k? worn ripped jeans? been to Rhode Island? been given roses? found a dead rat in your house? danced in the rain? watched the cartoon Rocket Power? been to a renaissance faire? owned a Raggedy Ann doll? driven a Range Rover? had a friend named Rachel? been to Rome? visited the Roman baths? had to pay rent? rented a car? rented an apartment? spent the whole day reading? read the entire Bible? enjoyed watching Nascar racing? been to a Nascar race live? remodeled your living room? painted a picture of a rose? seen a double rainbow? raked leaves? seen a red-tailed hawk? had a pet rabbit? built a robot? tried to re-boot a computer? went for a walk in the rain without an umbrella? gotten drenched in the rain? Do you know anyone named… Rosalie? Raven? Rocco? Rebecca? Rachel? Randal? Rose? Remi? Raelynn? Riley? Rylan? Ryker? Rosa? Rosanna? Rosemary? Rico? Rhea? Rhiannon? Rihanna? Reyna? Rain? Rhani? Roxie? Rosie? Rodney? Roderick? Rhonda? Would you say you are…. reliable? responsible? reasonable? ridiculous? real? relational? rational? More Q’s Do you like the name Ryan? Sure. Do you think “rhododendron” is a cool word? Sure. What are three of your favorite things to eat with rice? Curry, shrimp scampi, burrito bowls. And if you count things MADE with rice, then sushi, hands down. What is your favorite resort that you’ve stayed at? The Wilderness indoor waterpark resort in The Dells.

Do you like the name Rhiannon? I do. What is your favorite song by Rascal Flatts? No. Do you like to read romance novels? No. Name a song you like that is about romance. My brain is broken. How many of these words do you know the meaning of: ricochet, rhododendron, reflux, reciprocate, respiratory? All of them. Do you own any N95 respirator masks? Yes. Can you run a mile easily? No. List five things you associate with the word “ranch.” An actual ranch, the style of house, the Blink 182 album Dude Ranch, the dressing, Texas. Has red ever been one of your school’s colors? Burgundy. Do you read a lot? No. That’s all for now- have a wonderful day! :)

[mafaldaknows]

🐇🕳️🚨‼️

The irony of this Sunday morning rabbit hole is the fact that it grew from pure serendipity, as I pondered who Michael Cera was married to, after noticing a wedding ring on his finger in an Instagram reel about his role as “Allan” in Barbie (2023), and found this article:

Michael Cera and his lovely wife Nadine have proven that it IS absolutely 97.6% possible to keep your private life private, if you truly did want to keep your private life private (and didn’t tell Amy Schumer.)

It was at the bottom of this article that I found this fascinating juxtaposition of headlines.

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE

Just as there’s a thin line between love and hate, there might be an equally thin line between girlfriend and stalker.

COMPARE & CONTRAST:

Loud & Proud

VS.

Whatever this is casual and “pRiVAtE”

The “insider” source’s solitary, continuously-retreaded statement still gets traction months after making its first appearance in the trash tabloid press, despite many opportunities for an update in the numerous new articles magically appearing every few weeks that no one asked for because no one really believes this specific fairy tale.

BONUS, ICYMI:

X

X

X

[postencore]

[3acesnews]

Rodeo Drive T-Bone Crash, Mini-Bikes Smash into Range Rover

[kow]

i drove on rodeo and it was like the most money i’veever see in my entire life

[trevhanson-blog1]

11:21 PM;

It’s about a fourteen minute drive outside of Hidden Palms— by the time you pull up, you find Uber Xs sidling down the long driveway and rounding the cul-de-sac like airport drop-off, and people milling about, talking and smoking near their parked cars; some are still dressed in finery from the gala, but most have arrived wearing shorter, tighter, more after-party-appropriate outfits. You wedge your vehicle between a purple Huracan and a heavy-looking Range Rover. Music spills from the house, a super-sized Hamptons home masquerading as a Beverly Hills mansion for the night, and you’re drawn in by the boosted bass, beating like a disembodied, electronic heart. Fingers wiggle at faces, shrieks of glee erupt; some of these people you recognize, many you don’t. As you slip through the front doors, you’re struck by how little this place resembles a home. They must have hired a decorator, you figure, looking around at blank walls awash with a pulsing disarray of colors— no family portraits on the mantle, just ashtrays, sleek vases, and a cursive neon wall sign warning all those who enter: NO BAD VIBES. There’s more to see outside; the whole party’s really out there, in the enormous backyard shrouded privately by dark oaks and elms, enclosing a salt-water infinity pool and a spacious jacuzzi with steam curling off it. The real showstoppers tower above you: twenty full-size palm trees, swaying in the night breeze, each one floodlit from below. They stand at attention on either side of the pool, whose waters are kaleidoscopic with colored strobes, the surface crowded with various pool toys— pineapple floats, beach balls, an inflatable swan dyed pink, then blue, then green in the changing light. Two make-shift bars are serving drink specials with cheesy names— Botox Bombshell, Rodeo Drive 75, OG Kush on the Rocks (with weed-infused vodka, of course)— and there’s a teakwood cabana, intended as a pool house, now converted into a DJ booth for two long-legged twins bobbing their heads to an endless succession of dance beats and clubby remixes.

And beyond that, behind the DJ booth and the food tent and the out-of-season sauna room storing fresh towels, past the clustered groups of models and NYC trustfund brats that have all turned out in droves, a stretch of land leads down to a private beach, the walkway completely dark except for some fairy lights strung along the railing. You find yourself here later, music pounding at your back; the dune grasses whisper and the ocean roars, climbing hungrily up the shore. Other party guests are barely visible along the beach, walking with drinks in hand, some of them paired off and reduced to shadows in the privacy of the dunes. You crane to look at the palms silhouetted behind you, shivering like black paper cut-outs in the breeze; and for a second, it’s actually hard to tell (or maybe just easy to forget), whether you’re not on the West Coast after all.

SOUNDTRACK.

[vixx6n]

7:28 AM. stop acting like a bitch